


Tales of Deceit and Grief

by Potrix



Series: Tales of Deceit and Grief [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Asgard handles their criminals very differently, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Forced Pregnancy, FrostIron - Freeform, Healing, Injury Recovery, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki's Punishments, M/M, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS, Panic Attacks, Parenthood, Past Abuse, Past Mpreg, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Poor Loki, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Slave Loki, Slow Burn, Suffering, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unwilling Master Tony, caring Tony, everything is twisted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 77,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago, Loki and an army of Chitauri attempted to take over Earth, killing thousands and destroying huge parts of Manhattan in the process. The Avengers managed to stop the God’s sinister plan at the last moment, but the losses were great and humankind left in shocked bewilderment. </p><p>Thor escorted his remorseless brother back to their home world and that was the last anyone heard or saw of the Æsir for half a decade.</p><p>Until they suddenly - and uninvited, thank you very much for that - pop up in Tony Stark’s living room to deliver the news of Loki’s sentence along with the infamous God of Mischief made slave himself.</p><p>In the ensuing chaos, Tony starts to realise that nothing is quite as it seems and everything is much more twisted than anyone originally thought.</p><p>~ AU - disregards everything after The Avengers, the events featured in Iron Man 3 and Thor TDW never took place ~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrival of the Space Vikings

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Poetic Justice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/635514) by [Limmet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limmet/pseuds/Limmet). 



> This work was inspired by [Poetic Justice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/635514) by [Limmet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Limmet/). The beginnings of our stories are somewhat similar (because I adored theirs so much) and I made shameless use of the "Bruce Banner is your guy if you secretly have an alien God stashed away in your tower and need some medical assistance" headcanon. The stories quickly takes vastly different turns, however, but I still hope I will do the original work justice.
> 
> Despite its dark themes, the overall tone of this story turned out to be lighter than one might expect. All the “bad stuff”, i. e. Loki’s trial, sentence, subsequent torture etcetera, happened in the five year gap between the battle of New York and the beginning of the fic and will not be elaborated on (much). The actual story is about the cultural clash between Asgard and Midgard, especially the aspect of slavery and human rights, as well as Loki’s healing process and the slowly developing relationship between the two protagonists. 
> 
> I borrow from both the Marvel movies and mythology, though I won’t be taking either as gospel. This story is a creation of my own and will be a mixture of a bit of everything - which means me picking parts I like and ignore those I don’t. 
> 
> I also won’t be addressing the whole “Odin is a dick and Loki just a misunderstood child” versus “Loki is an evil monster and deserved everything he got” debate. Again, it’s a bit of both, at least in my eyes and this particular story. If that’s not to your tastes or if you have a very strong opinion in either direction, this probably isn’t the story for you.
> 
> English is not my native language and I don’t currently have a beta (volunteers?). Should you find any errors or things that aren’t clear, don’t be shy to point them out. Americans, please ignore the occasional extra ‘u’ and accidental British curse. 
> 
> And, last but not least, the chapters are held relatively short in hopes that I’ll be able to update at least once a week. Yes, this is a work in progress. No, I’m not even remotely sorry because I’m a bad person and a terrible tease. 
> 
> Reviews make me happy and give you good karma. Or something...
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter I - The Arrival of the Space Vikings**

* * *

The situation is so utterly surreal, so far removed from everything he ever thought possible - and that is saying a lot, what with the whole being a superhero thing and having a big green rage monster for a best buddy - Tony Stark would have laughed if the three bearded, armour-clad and weapon-clasping men hadn’t looked so serious about their quest.

“So, let me get this straight,” Tony says slowly, trying to summarise the events of the past ten minutes into a few coherent sentences that don’t sound completely mad and ridiculous. Which turns out to be harder than expected because, frankly, everything about this entire scenario _is_ absolutely mad and ridiculous. “You’re telling me that, for his actions against the people of Earth _five years ago_ , Loki has been brought to trial and sentenced to a _lifetime_ of _slavery_ to be served under _me?_ That about right?” 

His attempt to put emphasis on the most ludicrous parts of the three Asgardians’ message in order to point out just how _not on_ all of this is seems to fall flat, going by the expression on the face of the guy holding the parchment, _the fucking contract of ownership_ , for Tony to sign. 

“Yes, Man of Iron, that is the reason for our visit to your realm,” he nods, pushing the document at Tony who takes a step back and very pointedly does not accept the damn thing. The black-bearded Viking frowns at him, obviously perplexed by the blatant refusal. 

Tony holds up his hands, palms facing away from himself, and gives a vigorous shake of his head. “Yeah, no. Absolutely not.”

“We do not understand, Man of Iron,” the Viking ventures carefully, staring down at the parchment with a slight frown creasing his bushy brows. “Are the conditions lain down in this contract by the Allfather not pleasing to you?”

“No, of course they’re fucking not!” Tony explodes at them. The Asgardians look taken aback by the sudden outburst and Tony groans, heaving a heavy sigh and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Only him. Why _him?_ “Here on Earth we have these fancy little things called human rights which apply to every single person on the whole planet. Granted, you might not technically be human, but slavery is not something we do here in America. It’s a big no-no, okay?” 

“The will of the Allfather carries more weight than Midgardian law,” pipes up Viking Yellow-Teeth, as Tony immediately, and with a slightly disgusted nose-wrinkle, dubs him after he opens his mouth. 

“Well,” Tony gives an indignant, final sniff and a little shrug, petulantly crossing his arms over his chest, “I refuse. You can’t just beam your asses into my living room and expect me to be all jolly and cheerful about your weird, twisted ideas of justice and punishment.”

Yellow-Teeth gives a shrug of his own in return. It’s Bushy-Brows who speaks up again. “It is in your rights to refuse this offering, although we are instructed to inform you of the consequences should you decide to do so.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Lay it on and let’s get this over with,” Tony says and makes an impatient ‘get on with it’ motion with his hand. This is not something he’s equipped to deal with first thing on a Sunday morning _before_ his first cup of coffee. No, scratch that, this is not something he’s equipped or willing to deal with _ever_.

And what if some feathers get ruffled by his noncompliance? He can live with some old alien king having a grudge, big whoop. He’ll let Fury and his S.H.I.E.L.D. monkeys deal with whatever repercussions his actions might have. No one can honestly expect him to go along with this insanity. 

“Very well,” Bushy-Brows begins, breaking Tony out of his thoughts and bringing him back to the present. He unrolls the parchment and clears his throat, apparently going all in for the full dramatic reveal. Tony merely rolls his eyes at the display. “Should the Man of Iron refuse to accept the offering of slave tveir-fjórir-níu-níu-fimm, formerly known as Loki Odinson, being passed over into his servitude, the Allfather, ruler of all nine realms, wishes to express his sincere regret for having burdened the Man of Iron with the sentence he bestowed upon slave tveir-fjórir-níu-níu-fimm. In case of refusal, the handover committee will return the prisoners to Asgard for execution. The Allfather wishes to-“

“Wait! Okay, stop it right there, big guy,” Tony cuts in sharply, eyes having grown impossibly wide. “I can’t have heard that right. Execution?”

Bushy-Brow gives an unperturbed nod. “Failing to be of further use to their master for any reason whatsoever results in the termination of the prisoners. Should you not wish to keep the prisoners, they will be taken back to Asgard for execution and we leave you with our apologies for having wasted your time, Man of Iron.”

Tony narrows his eyes, throwing the three Vikings a highly suspicious look. “You keep saying prisoners. Like, plural. More than one.” 

“Indeed,” agrees Bushy-Brows, turning the parchment over for Tony to see. He stabs one huge, fleshy finger at a line of writing which is, curiously but thankfully enough, in English. “The contract of ownership involves slave tveir-fjórir-níu-níu-fimm plus one female child.” 

“Whose child?” Tony blurts and immediately gets the feeling of having asked a tremendously stupid question as he takes in the identical frowns suddenly forming on all three Asgardian faces.

“The slave’s child, of course,” says Yellow-Teeth in what is apparently his normal, monotonous and highly bored tone of voice. 

‘Ah, yes, of course,’ thinks Tony and just barely manages to suppress the frustrated sigh threatening to escape him. “What does a child have to do with any of this?” 

That seems to be deemed another moronic question. “The child was born to a slave and is, therefore, such by birth,” Bushy-Brows explains, starting to sound a tiny bit annoyed by Tony’s incomprehension. 

Tony gapes disbelievingly, mouth opening and closing soundlessly a few times before he’s able to produce actual words. “That’s... _wrong_ on so many levels, I don’t even...” He rubs at his eyes again when the Asgardians don’t appear at all disturbed by the mention of a child slave. He gives in with a resigned huff. “Fine, whatever, I don’t even... yeah, I don’t even know what to say to that. So who’s the child’s mother? Also a slave?” 

It’s the most logical explanation that comes to his mind. Of course, it is entirely possible that separating a mother and child is a normal thing in Asgard, he’s already been witness to just how different, to put it mildly, their customs are. Or the mother is dead and the child remained with the father. Or, which is most likely, that Tony has no idea how the whole family situation works under the condition of, you know, _fucking slavery!_

There comes a disgusted snort from the third Asgardian, causing Bushy-Brows to throw him a silencing glare. Snorty grumbles into his beard in what must be some Nordic language. The only word Tony can make out between all the gibberish is ‘ergi’, which does not really help with his initial question since he has absolutely no clue what it means.

“Silence yourself, brother,” Bushy-Brows orders loudly and Snorty complies after another round of probably very offensive muttering. Bushy-Brows huffs at him before turning his attention back to Tony. “The specifications can all be found in the contract. You do not have to worry, Man of Iron, the child’s parentage is of no importance to you.” He gestures to Yellow-Teeth who nods and makes for the hallway door. “We will take the prisoners and escort them back to Asgard. The Allfather will be informed of your decision.” 

“Hold on!” Tony interrupts again and yes, now he can see the irritation in all three of the Vikings. Well, it’s not his fault their barging into his tower and confronting him with this lunacy has him confused, so they’ll just have to deal with his inane questions. “You’re going to kill Loki and a child, whom I assume to be innocent and simply born under not so ideal circumstances, if I don’t sign your contract and accept this creepy offering?” 

Bushy-Brows gives a quick, curt nod. “It is what has been decided by the Allfather and the council.” 

“Just to clarify, you’re going to _kill a child?_ ” Tony asks again, unable to wrap his mind around that particular concept.

Yellow-Teeth’s “No, two _slaves!_ ” is dripping with impatience and exasperation. 

And that does it. 

No matter that no one on Earth has seen or heard of the God of Mischief in half a decade or that Tony hoped for the same to rot away in the deepest, darkest dungeon available or that all of what transpired since the Asgardians arrived in his tower is downright, bat-shit crazy; in this precise moment, it doesn’t matter in the slightest.

Tony is not a man who follows many rules or places value on strict morals. He is an egoist, a narcissist, one of the most self-centred people on the planet - something many of his enemies and friends alike would wholeheartedly agree with. But _Jesus fucking Christ_ , he’s human down to a fault and the crap that’s going on here, right now, in his own living room, is just plain wrong. Every tiny last bit of it. 

He briefly closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath before squaring his shoulders and holding out his hand for the parchment. “You got a pen?”


	2. Is this really you, God of Mischief?

**Chapter II - Is this really you, God of Mischief?**

* * *

Tony scribbles his name down with much more force than strictly necessary, hand shaking with barely suppressed rage and a hefty dose of disbelief.

“There you go,” he snaps and straightens back up, glaring at his visitors as hard as he can manage. On one hand, there’s nothing he wants more than to get these three fuckwits out of his home and put the whole disastrous last half hour behind him. But then again, once they take their leave he will be left in charge of Loki - former God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard, now reduced to a slave without basic human rights, it seems - and his child.

It’s not a prospect he’s looking forward to. What’s he supposed to do with the two of them? Or, more importantly, what is Loki going to do to him? He can’t really picture the guy who once tried to _invade the planet_ being all that happy with how things turned out. And he can’t very well live in his Iron Man suit from now on just in case the trickster decides to throw him out another window.

“The prisoners have been outfitted with magic-blocking ankle shackles in addition to the standard slave collars,” Bushy-Brows says, thankfully broaching some of Tony’s more pressing concerns. “They are mortal in appearance and most other ways including strength, proneness to illness and need for nutrition and rest. Their lifespan, however, remains unchanged, meaning both of them will reach the normal Æsir age of around five thousand of your Midgardian years under proper care and maintenance.”

Tony arches a slightly impressed eyebrow at that. “You do realise that I’ll be dead in about twenty years, going by my current lifestyle? Tops.”

“The slaves will be passed on to your heirs, Man of Iron,” Bushy-Brows continues, reading Tony’s mind again. “The slaves are to remain in your ownership, as stated in the contract. The Allfather and the council have deliberately placed them into your charge and do not want for them to be gifted to anyone else. You are, of course, free to lend them and their skills to whomever you choose.” 

“Yeah, great. Thanks for that,” Tony mutters and gives a sarcastic smile that’s completely lost on the Asgardians. Æsir? Unwanted alien guests!

“The shackles further prevent the slaves from bringing any kind of harm to you and your fellow humans. They allow the Æsir authorities to keep them under surveillance and to return them to you should either of them make an attempt to remove themselves from your property. Should you need them to run errands outside of your tower, you merely have to make this known to them, the magic in the shackles is linked to you. They will be able to go wherever you wish or need them to go. Or if you should want to confine them to a single room, that is possible as well.”

Tony simply shrugs and makes some vague hand gesture, unable to think of anything, or at least anything _nice_ , to say to that.

“Very well, my friend,” Bushy-Brows bellows, clapping his hands together. Behind him, the other two Vikings crouch down before they are swallowed by a flash of golden light, transporting them back to whatever corner of the universe they came from. “We could not find the servant quarters. The slaves were put into one of your empty chambers for you to relocate to your wishes.”

With a hearty “Farewell, Midgardian friend!”, Bushy-Brows follows his brothers, leaving Tony standing in the middle of his living room, completely lost and uselessly clutching his pen.

***

The only currently empty room on this floor is Pepper’s former office and not a place Tony usually likes to spend his time in. Unpleasant memories and reminders and such. Nevertheless, that’s exactly where he finds himself the moment the last Viking beamed himself back up to Magic Fairyland, hand resting on the knob but not yet turning it.

He has no idea what exactly awaits him behind that door and Bushy-Brows’ assurances that Loki is now magic-less, all docile and lamb-like, are kind of hard to believe. All he has to go on is the picture of a raging, sceptre-wielding madman trying to take over the world from the top of this very tower. Which is not all that reassuring.

Maybe he should suit up? Or at least grab a knife or something?

Before any more potentially stupid and destructive ideas can make their way into his head, Tony opens the door and steps into the room.

He expected a lot of reactions, most of them highly unpleasant or at least laced with some anger or resentment. The picture that’s presenting itself is anything but.

Loki is kneeling, facing the door with his eyes cast down to the floor, one hand quickly shooting out to pull a small girl hovering uncertainly by his side into a similar position.

Well, Tony _supposes_ it is Loki, since that’s what the contract says according to Bushy-Brows - _damn_ , he should have at least skimmed the thing before signing it. Had he met the man out on the street, though, he wouldn’t have looked at him twice and most definitely not recognised him as an alien prince. Former prince. Whatever.

The figure so awkwardly placed at his feet is clad in tattered rags, barely covering a body that seems to be more black and blue than anything else. His long hair has seen better days, lying braided at his back and enabling Tony to see a hollow, bruised face smeared with grease and what he sincerely, but most likely also futilely, hopes is not blood. The man is painfully thin with a sickly aura surrounding him, obviously straining to keep himself in his semi-upright position. The girl appears to be in a similar state with a few less bruises and cuts which, Tony thinks even as his heart sinks at the picture of misery in front of him, is at least one positive thing to be taken from this whole disaster.

He should probably say _something_ , Tony realises with a start and snaps his gaping mouth shut, thinking for a moment.

Loki shifts slightly and Tony can see him suppressing a wince before he speaks, quietly and carefully. “We would like to offer our gratitude for your generosity in taking us into your home, master.”

For a second, Tony debates running out of the room and slamming the door, hoping to wake up tomorrow and having all this be nothing more than a weird dream. What he does, in the end, is stutter out an “Okay?!” that’s a somewhere between a question and a statement.

“Please let us know in what ways we can serve you, master,” Loki continues as Tony slowly creeps closer, twitching at the way he’s being addressed.

He comes to a halt mere inches from the former God, about to tell him to stop kneeling and please, for fuck’s sake, get up, when it happens. Loki’s hands move to the cord of his pyjama bottoms, nimble fingers tugging and pulling the string loose before Tony catches up and jumps back, batting them away from his crotch.

“What the hell?” Tony snaps and Loki freezes, shrinking even further into himself in what looks like an attempt to make himself as small and unassuming as possible.

“Forgive me, master,” Loki whispers, definite fear and a not insignificant amount of panic in his voice. “Customs on Midgard seem to be vastly different from their Æsir counterparts. I apologise for having misread the situation.”

Tony can only stare as the former God shuffles and turns around, pushing at the sleeves of his tunic-like clothing until it falls and pools around his waist, revealing a pale back covered with what Tony immediately identifies as whip marks.

The girl gives a little whimper next to him and Loki stiffens, but makes no attempt to reach out or console.

The implications of what Loki must have assumed slam into Tony with the force of a train at full speed, sending him staggering back a few steps. “Fuck,” he breathes, hands running nervously through his short hair. “This is not... I don’t want you to... is _that_ what they did to you?”

Loki remains in his position, shoulders rigid as he waits, obviously at a loss as to what’s happening. Or, rather, why what he expects to happen isn’t happening.

“I’m not going to do... _that_ , all right?” Tony offers, walking closer again but lowering himself down to the floor this time to be on eye-level with the other man. “And I’m not going to hit you or whatever. So, just turn back around, okay?”

Loki obeys instantly and turns, still staring down at the carpet. “Apologies, master,” he repeats, chest heaving and the hands he’s lain down in his lap trembling.

Without thinking, Tony reaches out to place one of his hands on Loki’s shoulder, making the man flinch and then tense at his own reaction.

“Sorry,” Tony says at the same time as Loki utters another “Apologies, master.”

With a heavy sigh, Tony sits back, helplessly watching the two half-starved and terrified figures cowering in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * this chapter has been edited as of May 12th since I have found a lovely beta for this fic. Nothing has changed story- or content-wise, but some things have been tweaked and improved a bit to make your reading experience more pleasurable. I hope.


	3. The hedonistic Narcissist with a Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shout-out and all my thanks go to [Maieutikos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Maieutikos) who offered to suffer through betaing for this story.

**Chapter III - The hedonistic Narcissist with a Heart**

* * *

The oppressive silence stretches on for several long minutes with Tony unable to find the right words for the situation - _as if there are any!_ \- and the former God obviously still scared out of his mind, twitching and flinching at the slightest shift in Tony’s posture.

“So,” Tony begins when he can’t take it any longer, desperately searching his usually brilliant mind for anything that might help or at least not further frighten the two other people in the room, “what’s your name, then, sweetheart?” he asks, addressing the little girl.

She, contrary to her father, actually looks up at him curiously which Tony is insanely grateful for. He gets the feeling that this simple action would probably have dire consequences back on Asgard, though, when Loki’s breath hitches and his fists clench where they lie on his thighs.

Well, this is Earth, Tony thinks stubbornly and makes an effort to school his features into something open and warm, even managing a small, friendly smile. “A nickname maybe? Cute bug like you is bound to have everyone wrapped ‘round her little finger, yeah?”

It comes as a huge surprise to most people, but Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, has an enormous soft spot for kids. They’re inquisitive and straightforward, brutally honest and a tiny bit selfish, but compassionate and trusting. Something about those qualities appeals to him and it is not the fact that he himself is basically just an overgrown child with a ridiculous amount of cash and a house full of neat toys at his disposal. Okay, maybe that’s part of it. But it’s a fact that kids instantly take to him, he’s always fancied himself the fun uncle kind of type. Tony and kids just click.

Or, as it turns out, Tony and most kids do. The girl peeking at him through a curtain of curly charcoal hair with two huge emerald eyes does not say a single word. Instead, she lifts a hand and sucks a tiny thumb between her lips, pressing her shivering body closer against her father’s side.

“Forgive my daughter, master,” Loki speaks up and there’s a definite pleading edge to his voice. “She does not talk.”

“Ever?” Tony blurts and then winces at his rushed bluntness. He lets his gaze dart over her, automatically scanning for injuries or other reasons preventing her from forming words.

Loki chances a brief glance at the girl. “It... it is not a physiological issue,” he is quick to explain. “I am doing my best to teach her, master. I do not know what is wrong with her.”

And they both know that’s a lie. Tony’s guessing at something along the lines of severely traumatised by years of abuse. No wonder she’s keeping quiet.

Tony gives a little shrug and another, hopefully encouraging, smile. “Ah, well. She’ll start whenever she’s ready,” he says and then, figuring the child is the safest conversation topic at the moment, adds, “How old is she?”

“A bit over three of your Midgardian years, master,” Loki informs him, the relief at the forgone punishment of his daughter painfully obvious on his features. “Thank you for showing such understanding and mercy, master, it is very kind of you.”

“You don’t have to call me that, you know,” Tony sighs and awkwardly scrubs at the back of his neck.

Loki gives him a blank, uncomprehending look. “I do not understand, master.”

“Just use my name, okay?”

The expression on the other man’s face clearly conveys the outrageousness of such a thing. Tony can literally watch the battle between following what he took as an order and what he must believe to be the proper way to address Tony taking place in the tightening of Loki’s lips and the confused crinkling of his eyes.

“As you wish... Mr Stark, sir?” the man finally, and very carefully, ventures.

Tony sighs inwardly. It’s better than master, that’s for sure. One small step at a time. Loki appears overwhelmed and on the brink of collapsing, they can discuss the ridiculousness of this... arrangement once the man isn’t about to keel over. The hope that Loki will be more like his old self after a bit of food and a stiff drink is foolish, but Tony keeps clinging to it nonetheless. He hasn’t got the first idea what to do with this shell of a man, the broken remnants of a powerful sorcerer trembling right there on his floor like a cornered animal.

“So, what is her name?” he muses eventually, coming back to his initial question.

“Slaves do not have names unless their masters wish to gift them such, Mr Stark, sir.”

Of course they don’t. Tony briefly wonders if banging his head against the nearest wall will at all help his current situation. He’s not about to give up, though. “What do you call her? In private? Come on, you can tell me. You must have named your daughter, even if it’s just for the benefit of the two of you.”

Loki hesitates for a moment longer, worrying at his fingernails. “Analía,” he whispers in the end and then, a bit louder and with the meekest smile possible, “Ana.”

“There you go,” Tony beams at him. “Ana. Pretty, I like it.” He turns back to the girl and wriggles his fingers at her. “Nice to meet you, Ana.”

Ana stares, then blinks and nods as if surprised by him using her name. Which she probably is, but she seems amenable to the general concept, which is good enough for the moment, Tony thinks.

Her gaze starts wandering over him, inquisitively taking in everything about the stranger, and finally comes to rest on the dim light of the arc reactor shining through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“My own personal night light,” Tony grins, pulling at the neckline of the tank top to reveal the upper half of the glowing structure and tapping a knuckle against it. He’s immensely pleased at the awed if involuntary gasp the motion causes, Ana’s eyes now glued to his chest. Small victories.

It doesn’t last long, however, the feeling of success. Loki gives a half choked-off whine, swaying dangerously until he simply falls forward, only Tony’s quick reflexes acquired through years of combat preventing him from getting to know the floor from much closer than what is enjoyable.

Loki begins to struggle the moment Tony’s arms find their way around him, looking mortified at the display of inappropriateness which would most likely lead to another round of severe punishment back on Cloud Viking. But his weakened state renders the feeble protests mostly ineffective, the shaking hands pushing at Tony’s chest doing nothing to dislodge the man.

“Hey, hey, calm down, it’s fine, no biggie,” Tony hastens to assure and automatically begins stroking his own hands up and down Loki’s back in what he hopes is a soothing manner. The alien slumps against him then, but the relief about his compliance is short-lived when Tony realises it’s due to unconsciousness rather than understanding.

He sees Ana’s bottom lip start to tremble and her eyes well up over Loki’s shoulder and a moment later the girl is crying in earnest with Tony unable to help, having his arms full of passed out Norse God.

“Shit,” he sighs, pondering his possibilities for a moment and then gently laying the other man down on the floor before sliding one arm under his back and the other under his knees, picking him up bridal style. If he weren’t on the brink of a full-fledged panic attack, Tony would have appreciated the irony of just whom exactly he is now carrying out into the hall and down to the nearest bedroom.

He throws a look back, nodding for the sniffling girl to follow. “Ana, come on. Your Daddy is going to be fine,” he promises, having no idea if that’s anywhere near the truth or if Ana even understands what he’s saying. They could be speaking Klingon up in Asgard for all he knows.

It briefly registers again somewhere in the back of Tony’s brain just how _weird_ the situation is when he gently lowers one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s number one enemies down onto his bed, rearranging pillows and covers to make Loki as comfortable as possible. Oh, how he’d love to get a picture of the look on Fury’s face at receiving the news of a semi-naked Loki writhing and twisting his body into Iron Man’s sheets. Granted, it’s due to his sickened state and definitely not pleasure or anything like that, but still.

Tony is grinning when he crouches down next to the bed, but the expression vanishes pretty quickly when he presses the back of his hand to Loki’s forehead. It’s burning hot and Loki moans, arching into the contact, eyes fluttering open for a short moment before falling shut again accompanied by an exhausted sigh.

“Get some sleep,” Tony whispers, brushing a few stray curls away from the man’s sweaty forehead. Loki hums and turns his head, rubbing his cheek against Tony’s palm. Tony can’t help but smile at that before he catches himself and moves away as if burned, blinking down at his hand in surprise.


	4. The Misuse of Kitchen Sinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I’m not sure if I’ll be able to post on Monday, you get this chapter early. Yay. Confetti and glitter and sparkles and shit. Anyway... enjoy! 
> 
> Thanks for betaing go to [Maieutikos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Maieutikos).

**Chapter IV - The Misuse of Kitchen Sinks**

* * *

A shaky hiccup from Ana draws Tony’s attention away from where he’s still staring down at Loki’s unconscious form and back to the girl hovering in the doorway.

“Right,” he says, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Right. He’s sleeping now, see?” he offers; not a lie, a half-truth. She won’t know the difference, it won’t matter. And Tony absolutely does not want to scare the girl further after... well, _everything_. He’s not going to address those issues with either Æsir any time soon, nope, not touching any of that with a ten foot pole.

They could do with at least one person in this house who isn’t emotionally wrecked to the degree of it being crippling. He’s long past that point and Loki doesn’t seem to fare much better either. It’s all up to the girl now and Tony vows, right then and there, that no matter what happens with that goddamn contract and no matter what Odin, King of what-fucking-ever, is going to try in the future, he’ll keep her safe. For her benefit as much as for his own sanity and sense of self-worth.

It’s almost sweet the way Ana squares her shoulders and lifts her chin before stepping into the room, eyes fixed on the foot of the bed. Battle ready. Or, Tony thinks and does his best not to wince at that specific train of thought, it would be sweet if the action weren’t born out of fear. And reasonable fear at that.

“It’s okay, come here,” he urges, making an effort to keep his voice low and calm as he holds out a hand, beckoning her closer.

Ana, after some more reluctant shifting from one foot to the other, eventually walks up to the bed and comes to stand by Loki’s head. The expression on her face is complicated, nearly unreadable, but Tony is fairly sure he sees concern, no small amount of anxiousness and fear, but also a fierce protectiveness which should be disturbingly foreign on the face of such a young child, yet somehow isn’t. It looks practiced and that’s just a whole new level of messed-up. The implications behind a girl of her age even knowing worry so heart-wrenching as to warrant that particular facial expression make Tony feel faintly sick.

“I’m starving,” he says after watching her watch Loki for a while and hey, now that he’s mentioned it, he really is. “How about some breakfast? Pancakes? Waffles? Bacon? Bacon! Do you guys have bacon? If not, you’re really missing out on something. Bacon goes with everything, really. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, ‘kay?”

Tony knows he’s babbling, it’s the standard setting he falls into whenever he’s overwhelmed and completely out of his depth. Like when some Vikings drop in to inform him that he’s now the reluctant owner of two human beings - humanoid aliens, doesn’t matter, same difference - and contributor to something as despicable as slavery. No big deal, absolutely not, normal Sunday morning activity. No problem... _oh God!_

Thankfully, Ana understands next to nothing of his rambling and can’t hear the chaotic storm brewing in his head. She simply nods, readily if a bit warily trailing after Tony after a quick brush of her fingers over Loki’s hand.

“JARVIS?” Tony calls once they’re out in the hall, suddenly remembering that he has at least his trusty AI as a supportive ally in all this. Also, that the former God in his bed might or might not be seriously ill and could probably do with a doctor and a thorough examination. And antibiotics and painkillers. Do painkillers even work on Æsir?

_“How may I be of service, sir?”_

Ana jumps at JARVIS’ voice coming out of seemingly nowhere and hurries to walk closer to Tony who notices with a small but satisfied smile. He can totally live with being the lesser of two evils for now.

“Call Doctor Banner and tell him I’m sending a car for him. Also, send a car for Doctor Banner. And make it clear that this is an emergency, that I don’t care that he isn’t _‘that kind of doctor, Tony’_ and that I won’t be lending him the radioprotective lab anymore if he’s going to bitch about any of this.”

 _“Blackmail is such an innovative way of maintain interpersonal friendships,”_ comes JARVIS dry reply, prompting an actual laugh out of Tony.

“Don’t get snarky with me, mister!”

 _“My sincerest apologies, sir,”_ JARVIS says, utterly unapologetic. _“Anything else?”_

“Uh,” Tony begins, scratching at his head and pulling a face. “Clothes, I guess? For Ana and Loki. Take measurements and order a set of everything, basically. Any colour preferences?” he asks the girl, more or less jokingly, and is all the more surprised when she seems to consider for a moment and then points at the sofa.

“Green?” She nods. Huh. Figures. “You got that, buddy?”

 _“Of course, sir,”_ JARVIS says smoothly. _“We are also low on fresh foods and perishables. Would you like me to place an order?”_

Tony gasps, freezing mid-step. “No bacon?”

_“I’m afraid not, sir. Your promise for it was made rather hastily.”_

“Yeah, all right,” Tony snorts and fondly rolls his eyes at the ceiling. He doesn’t give a shit what other people say or how odd they think him, JARVIS is a friend, he has humour and a personality. Not the best personality, although that’s really no surprise considering who programmed him. Tony is honest enough with himself to admit that. Privately. To himself.

He immediately switches on the coffee machine once they reach the kitchen, the dark, heavy scent steadily filling the room actually helping him to calm down a fraction and gather himself again. More or less. A bit. Fine, he’s still freaking out, so sue him!

The fridge is indeed rather lacking in anything but leftover takeout and since he has absolutely no idea when he last had Thai, Tony figures the safest option to be cereal. He carefully sniffs the milk, deeming it consumable, and starts setting the table.

Moving to pick Ana up and lift her onto one of the bar stools is completely instinctual - they’re too high for her to reach, not so for Tony, simple concept - and earns him a panicked wail and an accidental kick to the hip.

“Fuck’s sake,” he hisses and then instantly feels bad when Ana starts struggling even more, causing him to almost drop her. He quickly sits her down on the nearest flat surface instead, which turns out to be the bar, and takes a few steps back, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry, sorry. No unannounced touching, sorry. I’m sorry. Okay?”

Ana, unsurprisingly, says nothing. She stays still, though, eyeing the box of Fruit Loops with interest. Tony is careful in his advance and keeps a safe distance between them as he prepares two bowls for them, sliding one over to the girl before plopping down on a stool and reaching for the other.

The spoon is ignored in favour of fishing the colourful rings, purple ones first for whatever reason, out with her fingers and inspecting each one closely before crunching them between her teeth in obvious delight. Not that Tony gives a crap, he’s actually pretty relieved she’s eating the damn things at all.

Her method of consumption does lead to rather a lot of mess, however, and by the times they finish their breakfast, Ana’s fingers are sticky and her dress - which, admittedly, hadn’t been the cleanest thing to begin with, but still - is soaked.

Being more tactful this time around, Tony wanders over to the sink and makes a show of washing his own hands before arching a questioning eyebrow back at the girl. “You next?”

Ana curls her sticky fingers, then wrinkles her nose and nods. She still goes all tense when Tony scoops her up, but lets herself be carried over to the other side of the kitchen towards the running water. And promptly proceeds to climb out of Tony’s arms and into the sink.

Which is how Iron Man finds himself peeling a squirming three-year-old out of wet, clinging clothes while said three-year-old does her best to duck her head under the faucet and succeeds in getting water everywhere.

He glares at the slave collar as he removes the thick strap of leather. The two Æsir are so not going to run around dressed in rags and marked as property in his goddamn tower, that’s for sure. The magic blockers are surprisingly non-clunky, a simple, engraved wire-like chain around each of the girl’s ankles. They buzz and start to glow, though, when Tony prods at them to get a closer look at the runes, so he decides to leave them for the moment. He’ll come up with something. He’s a genius, after all.

“Stay,” Tony orders, carelessly throwing the ruined clothes into the next best corner before sprinting to the bathroom to get towels and body wash. He comes back to find the water is ice cold, but Ana hisses at him when he tries to turn up the temperature so gives up and chalks it up to the whole her being an alien thing.

The next twenty minutes are filled with a lot of splashing and excited exclamations once Ana discovers how to make bubbles. Tony proudly revels in the fact that - after he finally manages to coax her out of her ‘bath’ - she not only allows him to wrap her in one of the towels but also to pick her up again and settle her on his hip while he rubs her hair dry.

Bonding through the misuse of kitchen sinks. It’s not like that’s the strangest thing Tony’s ever done, so why the hell not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark apparently is the kind of person who lets little kids sit on top of bars and leaves them unsupervised during bathing. I don’t recommend doing either of those things. My brother will gladly tell you the story of how I left him lying on the changing table and went to watch telly (Animaniacs was one, come on!), causing him to fall off and hit his head. He will also proudly show you the scar he got from the incident. Not that he even remembers, but yeah. He’s still a dick about it nineteen years later. 
> 
> (I was four, for fuck’s sake, I didn’t know any better! And let us all just forget the fact that I picked him up without asking or telling my mum and that I knew perfectly well I wasn’t allowed to do that.)
> 
> Moving on...


	5. Herbal Tea and Bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so drunk. Ugh. Have a new chapter. Whatever. See y’all when the world stops being fuzzy and weird. Wooo!

**Chapter V - Herbal Tea and Bruises**

* * *

The babbling - no actual or comprehensible words, more humming noises and little grunts, but hey, that’s awesome - Ana in one arm, Tony waits in the hall for the elevator doors to open while the girl watches on excitedly.

Since her impromptu bathing session, Ana seems a bit more at ease around him, going so far as to even tentatively curl one hand into the back of Tony’s shirt to keep herself steady as she’s carried around the tower.

Being carried, which is apparently a good thing now after the whole bar stool debacle. Tony tried setting her down on the sofa in his dressing room - shut up, he’s rich, he’s got lots of clothes, all right? - to find something for her to wear until the ordered stuff arrives. It didn’t go so well. On the bright side, _‘dressing a fussy three-year-old one-handed while said three-year-old clings to you and generally acts pretty uncooperative’_ is a skill none of the other Avengers have in their CVs. So, yeah. Take that everyone.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and rearranges Ana because _damn!_ Simply holding a child should be peanuts compared to what Tony does Iron Man-wise, but his back is surely disagreeing with that.

“This is some God thing, isn’t it? Super dense muscle tissue making you heavier than you look or something, right?” Tony demands with a wince, quirking an eyebrow at the girl who looks back at him with wide, alarmed eyes, body instantly growing tense against his side. Shit. Yes, scaring the traumatised child already confused and hurt and underfed and worried about her father possibly _dying_ a few rooms over. Well done, Tony. Activating brain-to-mouth filter would be highly appreciated. Like, any time now.

“Sorry,” he sighs and rubs his free hand over his face, pressing thumb and forefinger into his eyes until he’s slightly dizzy. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t actually help his current situation. “Sorry, it’s fine. We’re good. Everything’s peachy.”

Ana, understandably, looks sceptical. There’s a tiny confused frown forming between her eyes as she sucks the hem of Tony’s shirt into her mouth, absently chewing the fabric while she shifts her attention back to the elevator.

Tony manages not to wince at the mistreatment of his clothing. Just so. The shirt - olive green with a fading Black Sabbath logo because it’s never too early to start the kids on the right kind of music - is ridiculously large, hanging off one of the girl’s shoulders and over her feet. At least he’s going with the flow and what seems to be Loki’s favoured colour scheme.

When the ding finally announces Bruce’s arrival and the doors slide open it’s to reveal the scientist laden with shopping bags and several crates stacked by his feet.

“No, Tony, I don’t mind bringing up your orders, thanks for asking me so nicely,” Bruce starts in his usual half exasperated, half fond tone of voice that he’s perfected especially for Tony’s sake before he lifts his gaze and spots the two of them.

Tony has to give him some credit for barely showing any outwards reaction apart from a raised eyebrow.

“Why am I not surprised?” Bruce asks, voice dripping with badly hidden amusement, and pushes his ever-sliding glasses back into place.

Tony steps aside to let him through into the living room, gasping in an overly dramatic, mock-offended manner. “Your accusations and lack of faith in my knowledge of contraceptive methods wound me deeply, Doctor Banner!”

Bruce dignifies that with an elaborate eye-roll and nothing more.

“She’s not mine,” Tony says and then realises that’s not quite true. “Well, she is. Kinda. But not really. Not in the way you think.”

“Do I want to know?” Bruce sighs, ignoring Tony in favour of waving at Ana.

“No, probably not,” Tony smiles brightly and jerks his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Come have some calming herb-water and let me tell you anyway.”

***

“Tell me you’re joking,” Bruce manages to grit out, jaw clenched tightly and looking a little green around the nose. His hands twitch around the mug he’s holding, breaking off the handle in the process. “Tell me this is one of your tasteless and inappropriate attempts-“

“I’m a lot of things, Brucie, but never tasteless,” Tony interrupts with a haughty sniff, then immediately regrets it when he’s levelled with an angry glare. “ _What?_ What was I supposed to do? Send them away?”

Bruce deflates a little and lets out a resigned huff, setting down the broken container in favour of rubbing his hands over his face. “No. No, of course not,” he sighs. “ _You_ did the right thing for a change.”

“Wow. _Thanks_ ,” Tony snorts and rolls his eyes. “But yeah, I know. Not so high and mighty and just now, those supposed Gods, are they?”

The other man nods his agreement, keeping himself hidden behind his hands for a few more moments to calm down his breathing before straightening up, all business. “So, injuries to treat?”

Tony accepts the diversion for what it is, easily going with the change of topic. “Yeah. Loki’s out cold in my bed - shut up, it was closest - and it’s, well, not pretty,” he grimaces with a quick look down at Ana, unusually considerate in choosing his words. Which is kinda stupid, when he thinks about it, because Ana _saw_ her father’s condition, but still. No need to be too graphic, Bruce will see soon.

Following the engineer’s eyes, the doctor inclines his head in understanding. “Ana?” he ventures carefully, causing the girl to tighten her hold on Tony and hunch in on herself, hiding her face by pressing it into his neck. On one hand, that’s more direct contact than before, which is progress, but then again, her being afraid of Bruce, while certainly understandable from her point of view, is kind of not very helpful towards the goal of him checking her over.

“He’s a friend,” Tony tries, bouncing her a bit against his side which has her huffing and curling her toes, interestingly enough, but nothing else. “Look,” he sighs tiredly, taking a risk in smoothing a hand over her curls and feeling immensely pleased with himself when she doesn’t shy away from the touch. “We’re not going to hurt you, okay? We’re trying to help. I don’t know what those fuckers up in Magic Fairyland did to you, although I think I can take a fair guess, but that’s not how we treat people here on Earth. We don’t enslave people and we don’t torture people. And we don’t kick around those who can’t protect or help themselves just for the fun of it. At least most of us don’t. There are some assholes who-“

“Tony,” Bruce interrupts his rant, expression exhausted yet well used to his friend’s random word-vomiting.

“Yes. Right.” Tony blinks, shaking himself. “Anyway. No one is going to hurt you, I promise. Which I realise is an idiotic thing to say because you have absolutely no reason to trust me. But, well, try to? This situation is crap and I have no fucking idea how to handle it and you believing that I won’t let anything happen to you would really help things along. So. Please?”

He has no idea if his little speech had any effect at all, although Ana doesn’t protest much when he pries her hand loose and stands her on the coffee table. She shivers, frowning back at him, and Tony would have scooped her right back up if Bruce hadn’t taken over.

“Hi,” he smiles, practically radiating calm now as he shifts in his seat to move closer. “My name is Bruce, I’m a friend of Tony’s. He called me to have a look at you and your dad to see how badly you’re hurt and if I can help.”

“He’s a doctor,” Tony chimes in nervously - he’s not good with being quiet for long, so what? - earning himself an eye-roll.

“A healer,” Bruce offers and Ana’s previously blank stare turns knowing. “Are you in pain?” he asks and the girl, after deliberating for a moment, gives a shy nod. “Can you show me where it hurts the most?”

Tony pulls a face at that. She’s littered with smaller injuries, old and new, which had made it annoyingly difficult to bathe and dry her earlier without causing her further discomfort.

Ana takes another moment to think, then puts a hand on her left side, over her ribs.

“May I have a look?” Bruce requests and waits for the reluctant nod before reaching out slowly. He carefully eases the shirt up, running his fingers over the indicated area. Ana makes a series of pained noises and twitches a few times, but otherwise makes a visible effort to stay still.

“So?” Tony demands shortly, eyes flickering between his friend and the girl.

Bruce sits back after rearranging the shirt, his face tense again. “Nothing seems to be broken from what I can tell, but I’m pretty sure she’s bruised her ribs.”

“How?”

“I can’t tell for sure,” Bruce mumbles and _ah_ , that one catches Tony’s attention. 'Mumbling Bruce' is 'Reluctant To Come Out With The Truth Because He Knows Tony Isn’t Going To Like The Truth Bruce'.

“Bruce,” Tony warns and the doctor sighs, shooting him a pleading look.

“It appears as if someone stepped on her or kicked her repeatedly while she remained in a lying position and more or less still, most likely unconscious, going by the relatively small area of actual visible bruising.”

There’s a beat of silence before Tony’s yelled “Motherfuckers!” and the nearest object - the TV remote - flying across the room.

Next to him on the sofa, Bruce flinches while Ana decides to make a run for it.


	6. Hurt and Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if you left a comment on the last chapter and I haven't replied to it. AO3 decided to no longer let me go to pages two to whatever in my comment section and when I logged in to check again everything was marked read. So yeah. Just know I appreciate every single review and all of your feedback immensely. 
> 
> On a happier note, here's a list of things I got for my birthday yesterday; several bottles of whisky, three books about (medieval) torture, what I will delicately call 'aides for female self-pleasuring', money (I don't care if I'm an adult, thank you grandma!) and the pre-order confirmation for the Borderlands Pre-Sequel. All in all, a pretty fucking awesome day *throws confetti*

**Chapter VI - Hurt and Comfort**

* * *

“I’m sorry, okay?” Tony repeats for what feels like the thousandth time, rubbing agitated hands over his face and through his already messy hair.

Granted, his outburst was ill-timed and kind of counterproductive to the general goal of not freaking out his new house guests, but Bruce turning the sad, disappointed eyes on him is _so_ unfair. It’s not like he doesn’t already feel like a complete dick anyway, Bruce’s guilt trip is the absolute last thing he needs right now.

“Sorry,” he murmurs again, for good measure. He risks a glance up at his friend and flinches; yep, the disapproving stare is still firmly in place. Damn it.

“Maybe I’m not the one you should be apologising to?” Bruce suggests patiently and yeah, okay, he’s got a point there.

Worrying at his bottom lip, a nervous tick he’s picked up ages ago and can’t seem to control at all whenever he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing, Tony twists and cranes his neck in an attempt to see behind the breakfast bar from his position on the sofa. Ana vanished somewhere in the general direction of the small kitchenette the instant he started shouting some ten minutes ago and hasn’t been seen since.

Tony’s heart skips a beat when he can’t instantly find her and starts imagining what crazy shit a little kid could end up getting into in his apartment with all the Iron Man and Stark Industries related stuff carelessly lying around. It’s not like he’s ever had to worry about something trivial like safety measures before. Or, maybe, he should have but just never bothered. Whatever.

“JARVIS?” he asks, trying to calm himself by reasoning that his AI would surely have informed him if the girl was about to tumble off a ledge or impale herself on a wayward arrow of Clint’s. “What’s Ana doing?”

_“Miss Ana doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything, sir.”_

“Meaning?” Tony frowns, almost toppling over the arm of the sofa he’s leaning so far back by now.

_“She has hidden away in one of the currently empty cleaning bot compartments,”_ JARVIS informs them, then adds, sounding a bit too judgemental for an inanimate object, _“If I were to take a guess, sir, I’d say she was afraid.”_

Tony chews that over for a moment before jumping up, clapping his hands and announcing, “All right, here’s what we’re gonna do. JARVIS, keep the bots away from their loading stations for now and make sure to keep track on Ana. Tell me the instant she comes out or does something, I don’t know, unusual.”

_“Of course, sir.”_

Satisfied, the engineer turn back to face Bruce who’s scowling back at him. “I think she could use some space, okay?” Tony sniffs defensively and stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest, then lets them drop again when he realises how, well, guilty that looks.

“Maybe that’s not the worst idea,” Bruce admits after a moment and with a resigned sigh. “And don’t you dare make a joke about you never having anything but great ideas,” he appends warningly, pointing a stern finger at the other man.

Tony holds up his hands in surrender but can’t help the victorious - and immensely relieved - grin tugging at his lips. He’s just gained another few minutes of thinking time to make up what in shit’s name he’s going to say to the girl to coax her out of her cranny. “We, or, you actually, should go check on Loki anyway. Where’s your bag?”

Bruce sighs again even as he goes to pick up his supplies and follows Tony down the hall to his bedroom. “Anything I should know?”

“Well,” Tony starts, grimacing at the thought of the state the trickster arrived in. “He’s been better, I suppose. Got a fever, probably from an infection. One of the preferred punishment methods up in Magic Warrior World seems to be whipping, so you can take an elaborate guess at what his back looks like and where the infection came from.”

Bruce makes a sound that’s half disgusted humanitarian and half concerned doctor, but waves for Tony to go on.

“Uh. Lots of bruises and cuts and burns and stuff, from what I could see. Much like Ana. He was sweating too, now that I think about it. Fever chills, probably. He had trouble keeping himself from collapsing, so exhaustion for sure. Malnourished, he’s freakishly thin, it’s creepy. Honestly, they told me he and Ana were human, for all intents and purposes, though I’m pretty sure no human could have survived this kind of rough treatment for over five years. Also-“ he is about to go on before cutting off abruptly, face flushing a bright red.

Now, Tony Stark is anything but shy when it comes to physical pleasures - as everyone and their grandmothers are well aware of - but remembering the way Loki believed he was to be used for... _that kind of thing_ makes Tony shudder all over.

“What?” Bruce demands, lengthening his strides to catch up with Tony and be able to see his expression. “What else?”

“He flinched when I tried touching him and, eh, he kind of thought he was meant to give me a blow job when I walked up close to him. He was kneeling. So. Yeah. That.”

Very eloquent, Tony thinks and groans. At least it did the trick, going by Bruce’s widening eyes.

“You believe he’s been sexually abused?” the doctor clarifies, causing Tony to wince but nod. “That’s highly probable, looking back at our own history and all the ways we used to exploit the people we believed to be lesser and weaker.”

They reach the appropriate door and Tony puts a hand on Bruce’s chest to stop him from entering just yet, chewing his lips again. “What am I meant to do here?” he whispers, his voice shaking and surprisingly raw. “I’m the worst possible person to handle all of this. I’m a self-centred, arrogant eccentric with a semi-serious drinking problem and so many issues psychologists tend to go a bit foamy at the mouth reading my file. Bruce, seriously. This is so majorly fucked up, I’m still not fully convinced that I haven’t blown up my workshop and put myself in a coma that comes with lucid and hyper-realistic dreaming. I have absolutely no idea what to do.”

Bruce, the infuriating bastard, merely smiles and pats his hand before gently shoving him out of the way. “When has that ever stopped you?”

“Worst motivational speech in the entire history of speech itself,” Tony grumbles irritably, shuffling his feet and shifting his weight from one to the other. Debating. Stalling.

He gets about half a minute of this before the screaming starts and his body decides to move without his brain having fully caught up with the current happenings yet. “What-“

“Please!” Loki interrupts as soon as he spots the engineer, struggling to push himself up into a less vulnerable position. “Please,” he cries and Tony almost runs towards the bed in his confusion, huffing when Loki seizes the front of his shirt and tugs at him until Tony sits and he can bury his face against the man’s thigh. “Please, _please_.”

Utterly bewildered, Tony stares down at the former God in his lap, shaking with sobs, and carefully threads his fingers into greasy hair in what he sincerely hopes will be interpreted as a reassuring gesture.

“I think he remembers our parting terms last time he was here were less than ideal,” Bruce pipes up from where he’s fled into the corner of the room, his face stricken with emotion Tony isn’t in the right state of mind to correctly or accurately decipher right now.

“Please do not leave me at the Green One’s mercy, master. Mr Stark, sir,” Loki chokes out, more of a whimper than anything else.

That’s that particular suspicion confirmed. Well. Fuck, basically. Fucking _fuck!_

“It’s all right, it’s okay,” Tony says despite how stupid - and strangely helpless - it makes him feel. Of course it’s not okay. Nothing is okay. The world has never been less okay for Loki. “You’re safe, I promise. No one is going to hurt you, not anymore. Bruce is here to help, yeah? He’s a doctor, a healer, he’ll make you better. It’s going to be fine, you’ll see. It’s what I’m good at, apparently, making the best of the worst possible situation.”

He has no idea how long he’s sitting there with Loki crying-trembling-hiccupping into his pants and him stroking the trickster’s head and shoulders and talking absolute nonsense, but eventually Loki’s breathing begins to even out a little.

“Here,” Bruce says from behind them, making Tony curse and Loki flinch. The doctor gestures apologetically and hands Tony a washcloth, then addresses the former God while Tony swipes the wet fabric over Loki’s neck. “We need to get your fever down and I really should have a closer look at your back. I won’t touch you at all if you don’t want me to and you can always change your mind and tell me to stop. But I would like to at least try and help. All right?”

Loki says nothing at all, causing the other two men to share a shrug.

They manoeuvre carefully until Bruce is kneeling on the bed next to Loki, keeping up a constant stream of medical talk so their patient knows where he is without having to look up. Loki’s entire body goes rigid at Bruce’s first touch, but it’s clear he’s making an effort to stay still - because he trusts them not to harm him or because he’s afraid of what will happen to him if he doesn’t, neither Bruce nor Tony can tell. They silently agree that it’s good enough for now, though.

“You’re safe,” Tony finds himself promising again as he lowers his cheek to rest on top of Loki’s head and settles in to watch Bruce work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will probably be up on Tuesday or Wednesday. I may finish it over the weekend, but I think not because tomorrow I'm getting majorly pissed to mourn having turned older (AKA wasted) another year and on Sunday I'm going to see the muthafriggin' ROLLING STONES live! Yeah. But next week definitely.


	7. Revenge of the Nerds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This chapter is late. Sorry for the delay, my lovelies. I caught this annoying cold and haven’t been up to much of anything for the last ten or so days. I’m so ill, I’ve woken up after an impromptu nap earlier and watched Jeremy Kyle for over an hour because I’d kicked the remote away in my sleep and was too weak to get up and fetch it. _Jeremy Kyle!_ For an _hour!_ I fear I might never recover, I think I’m scarred for life. *sips tea with shaking hands* 
> 
> Anyway, here’s the new chapter for you all. Thanks for being patient with me. I’m gonna go and dispose of about forty-two gazillion tissues now before trying and failing to sleep. 
> 
> Stupid fucking arseholing cunt of a cold. Honestly. Ugh.

**Chapter VII - Revenge of the Nerds**

* * *

It’s almost impossible to believe that some mere hours ago he’d had a hard time imagining Loki as anything but the crazed sorcerer with the manic smirk shooting bolts of magic green light at anyone who dared to approach him, Tony thinks as he glances down at the tense figure shivering in his lap now.

He can feel the silent tears staining his sweatpants, but opts not to mention or make a big deal out of it. Tony knows what a man tortured and broken looks like, has experienced the consequences of it himself, and Loki is displaying all the signs he remembers observing in himself after his escape from the Ten Rings.

“Shush, it’s okay,” he soothes as Loki lets out another whimper after Bruce must have prodded at an especially tender part of his back. He brushes some of the matted hair out of the trickster’s eyes and moves the washcloth from the back of his neck to his forehead, wiping away the steadily accumulating sweat. “How much longer are you going to be?”

“Nearly done,” Bruce replies absently, his pinched face speaking volumes about how bad of a mess Loki apparently is.

“Good,” Tony says and startles himself with the amount of protectiveness in his voice. Huh. Weird, that.

Only, it isn’t really, is it? Let’s face it, Tony didn’t become a superhero - a title he still doesn’t think should be applied to him - for the same reasons as, say, Captain Goody Two Shoes. Protecting people, saving people, devoting one’s life to doing _good_.

Nah, that isn’t Tony. Where the others are brave, he’s reckless - flying a nuclear missile into a space portal, anyone? Where they are courageous, he’s merely thrill-seeking. He’s an eccentric loner, he blatantly refuses to follow rules and doesn’t give one single fuck about appropriate social behaviour.

No, Tony didn’t start any of this with the thought of becoming what he is now. His sole motivator for building the first suit out of the cave was revenge, pure and simple. Destroy the remnants of an empire he’d built without giving any thought to the possible consequences and show everyone that he means business.

And then things just kind of escalated from there, didn’t they? Sure, announcing that he is, in fact, Iron Man on live television may have been a factor responsible for how things turned out in the end, but then again, Tony never claimed to be modest. He did something great, something remarkable, so praise where praise is due, if you all please.

His starting motivations were different from those of the others, some might even say skewed or downright immoral, yet he has come to accept his role and even revel in it. He fucking loves being Iron Man. Who wouldn’t?

Doing what others can’t, seeing and experiencing things your Average Joe wouldn’t even dare to dream about - that’s right down Tony’s alley. And, to quote the lovely and not at all scary Miss Romanov; there is a lot of red in his ledger. He hasn’t any illusions that he’ll ever be able to wipe it all out, but he’ll be damned if he can’t make people forget about the Merchant of Death.

But all that aside, the point is that Tony _cares_. Fuck it if he blows up a parking garage and litters the five blocks around it with Doom Bot parts. As long as everyone’s safe and he gets a fist bump from the cute kid in the Avengers shirt at the end of the day, Tony’s counts it as a success.

He spent his high school years being bullied and pushed around for being smarter, cleverer and faster than anyone else, getting beat up and crammed into bins and lockers for talking back at his abusers - or, most of the time, right over their heads. And now that he’s able to help those who can’t help themselves, of course he does. Revenge of the nerds. 

So is it really all that surprising that he’s so affected by Loki’s sudden reappearance? The man has been stripped of everything that made him who he was and then brutally abused for half a decade in ways Tony doesn’t even want to imagine.

There’s something for everyone, something that makes them so uncontrollably angry that they snap, and for Tony that thing is preying on the weak and helpless. _Torturing_. Inflicting pain and misery for the simple, sadistic fun of it. That is just not on.

Sure, that is _exactly_ what Loki did the last time he was on Earth, but humanity should have learned by now that ‘an eye for an eye’ is not the best strategy to achieve its goals. Tony most certainly has. He will be relentless in his hunting down of those who need to be apprehended and punished and won’t hesitate to use all means available to him to do so. And he will, in the same breath, yell at S.H.I.E.L.D. agents for kicking or pushing their prisoners once they’re caught and cuffed. It’s one of the few things he and Steve actually agree on; the moment their enemy is made defenceless they back off.

_Everyone_ has the right to some basic human dignity, a fair trial and non-violent treatment. Even mad alien Gods from a weird Viking Planet who blew up half of Manhattan and threw Tony out of a window once.

“Loki?”

Both the man in question and Tony jump at the sound of Bruce’s voice, Loki going utterly still while Tony arches a questioning eyebrow at the doctor.

“Loki, I’d like to have a look at the rest of you,” Bruce explains softly, giving the former God’s side one gentle, reassuring squeeze before moving back a little to give him space. “Could you turn around?”

Loki does so after a moment, albeit very reluctantly. He scoots back until he’s pressed against Tony who accommodates him by uncurling his legs to let the trickster settle between them. He’s surprised at the first touch of Loki’s fingers against his hands, but allows him to hold on without saying anything, instinctively rubbing his thumbs over Loki’s knuckles.

“Thank you,” Bruce smiles, sounding relieved at the relative smoothness of the examination process so far.

It’s short-lived, though, since Loki twitches and starts making little low noises of distress in the back of his throat the moment Bruce touches his thighs. He clamps his legs together tightly and the pressure on Tony’s hands increases, bordering on seriously painful.

He finds his lips against Loki’s temple a moment later without really knowing how they ended up there, but shrugs it off and just goes with it. “It’s okay, he’s not going to hurt you, it’s fine,” he shushes, running his nose along the other man’s hairline and moving their joint hands up so their arms are crossed over Loki’s chest in a sort of embrace.

There’s a moment where he wonders if that really is such a good idea, holding Loki effectively caged against himself now, but the tricksters seems to relax a tiny bit, so Tony figures it’s fine. 

Bruce shoots him a complicated look from the foot of the bed ‘cause yeah, all right, that’s a little bit more intimate than offering comfort. Tony gives him a sheepish grin in response and the doctor goes back to his task, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

And fine, maybe Tony’s behaviour is unusual, he’s not normally acting so considerate and... _cuddly_ , but this is personal. He’s been in Loki’s place and it wasn’t much fun. There hadn’t been anyone there who understood, who’d been able to help, everyone tiptoeing around him as if he was about to crack or something when the only thing he actually would have needed was for someone to just _be there_.

That’s something Tony can do right now. And he _will_. Screw the fact that this is Loki and that he’s Iron Man and that he probably should have called Coulson or someone the moment the Æsir dropped in. Fuck all of that. Tony is no superhero, he’s been saying that for years. He’s human and he understands and Loki needs him and that’s it. Case closed or whatever. One step at a time, making it up as he goes. That’s what he’s best at, after all; improvising.

“Ugh,” Bruce coughs after a moment, bringing Tony back to the here and now again. “That’s... eh, yeah. Okay.”

Tony frowns at the doctor over Loki’s shoulder, watching where he’s carefully freeing the man’s stomach of blood and grime. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Not wrong, just...” Bruce trails off, visibly uncomfortable. He’s blushing, for fuck’s sake! “Stretch marks,” he finally manages, pointing at several longish, faint red lines running all the way from mid-stomach down to Loki’s iliac region.

Which is indeed unexpected.

Tony cards his fingers through Loki’s hair, scrubbing at his scalp as he turns his own head and twists around until he’s able to see the trickster’s face. “Something you wanna tell us?” he jokes as per his standard _I’m confused and what the hell is going on?_ settings.

Loki stares at Bruce for a moment, then locks genuinely confused eyes on Tony and says, as if it should have been obvious, “Ana.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I’m dizzy and a bit drunk (whisky _does_ help against colds, shut up, it’s science stuff!), so if you find more errors than usual, let me know and I’ll edit everything later. Thanks!


	8. Is it an Æsir thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not completely satisfied with how this chapter turned out, but well. It contains everything I intended to put in there, so there’s that. And it’s not all bad. I think. 
> 
> Also, some of you guys mentioned how fast Loki seemed to start trusting Tony in the last chapter and I thought this is something I better address and explain a little bit. There are several factors as to why things are happening the way they are, but I’d like to point out the three most important ones I had in mind while writing the chapter. 
> 
> First of all, Tony (and Bruce, although that relationship is strained due to Bruce practically pulverising Loki last time they saw each other) is the first person to show Loki any sort of kindness since what must feel like forever to Loki. He’s also the first person to touch him without the intention of causing hurt or harm and those two things combined are extremely comforting to Loki who’s been starved for simple human and physical contact for a good five years. 
> 
> Secondly, Loki is terrified of doing something wrong or somehow causing Tony (or Bruce) to punish him. It’s all he’s come to know over the last half decade and, therefore, he expects Tony to change his mind and hit or otherwise hurt him despite promising not to do any such thing. Showing respect and a certain amount of affection toward his master shows, at least in Loki’s abused mind, that he intends to be good and obedient. There are also clear signs that he was used as a bed slave and I think you can all imagine how that, in addition to everything else, fucked up his perception of appropriate and inappropriate touching. 
> 
> And lastly, we have to talk about Stockholm syndrome. It’s not exactly that, because that would be too easy and happening too fast. I can’t say much at this point without spoiling anything, but let’s call it magical-Stockholm for now. 
> 
> So. I hope that cleared some things up. 
> 
> Now go and read, chop chop!

**Chapter VIII - Is it an Æsir thing?**

* * *

Tony slides away from and around Loki so quickly, the momentum sends the other man sprawling backwards across the bed, emerald eyes widening in a mixture of trepidation and puzzled apprehension.

“Tony,” Bruce tries to stop the clearly over-excited engineer without much success, the hand he stretches out to place on Tony’s elbow never even reaching its destination.

“Are you for real?” Tony demands, eyes flickering wildly over Loki’s exposed stomach and the clear evidence that the trickster is indeed ‘for real’. His fingers itch with the need to touch and, well, Tony’s never been one to deny himself, so he traces one of the scars with his thumb and completely fails to notice the sudden tension in the room and the sharp intake of breath.

He’s reeling between disbelief, shock and something akin to wonder, abandoning the tracing in favour of smoothing his palm over Loki’s belly, stroking absently over fevered skin. “How does that even work? How does everything fit? Is it an Æsir thing?”

Damn it, never in his life has Tony wished for X-ray vision more than in this exact moment. Well, apart from that one time when he was nine and Mrs Jefferson wore that revealing but not- which isn’t the point right now.

Tony is no expert in human, never mind alien, biology or anatomy, but he’s fairly sure that men and women are equipped at least somewhat differently - outside _and_ inside. Otherwise it’d be a serious streak of luck that none of his male conquests ever ended up, well, knocked-up because young Tony Stark might not always have been the most careful person when it came to partying and drunk sex. The 80s, gay clubs, condoms and Tony didn’t have the best of relationships for a while there and yes, he knows how fortunate he was not to do some serious damage to himself and others, no need for a reminder, thank you very much.

But it’s not like anyone’s had the opportunity to study the Æsir or even ask them much about anything so far. Sure, there’s myths and folklore and all that vague and probably not especially accurate nonsense the Nordic countries wrote down some couple thousand years ago, but all of that is hardly sufficient for a man of logic and science such as Tony. So for all he knows, pregnant men are perfectly normal where Loki and Thor and the rest of the magic Vikings come from. Hell, who says they even reproduce anisogamously?

That particular thought has Tony’s gaze snapping down to Loki’s covered privates, brows furrowed and head tilted curiously.

He should know better than to assume or draw conclusions without having gathered all the facts, he really should. Most of what happened with Thor and Loki and the Chitauri was like something right out of a sci-fi epos; Asgard being real, space portals, hybrid aliens connected by a shared intelligence and nervous-system, fucking _magic_.

What’s a bit of genderbending added on top of that? Just because Loki _looks_ male, going by human standards, doesn’t mean shit. He could be sporting all sorts of crazy alien-y genitals - please let it be anything but tentacles, though, those things are nasty - or simply have the necessary internal organs to carry children. Tony vaguely remembers reading something about an eight-legged horse once, so yeah, there’s that as well. He’ll have to ask about that sometime ‘cause if that’s-

“Please,” Loki interrupts his musings and Tony can’t help but wince at the long, pale fingers suddenly tightly wrapped around his wrist, causing the delicate bones there to grate against each other uncomfortably. Reduced to average human strength Tony’s ass!

Loki seems to realise what he’s doing and snatches his hand back as if burned, Tony mimicking him and cradling his own smarting hand against his chest.

“Apologies,” Loki gasps, sounding wild and panicked again as he did upon first arriving. He bows his head and Tony watches, stunned and gaping stupidly, how he brings his fingers up to his neck and slips them under his collar, rubbing furiously. “Please forgive me, master, Mr Stark, sir.”

“It’s fine,” Tony assures automatically because it is, no real harm done. Or, not to him, at least. Loki, on the other hand, doesn’t appear to be feeling all that great and Tony frowns at him before his brain _finally_ catches up.

He just basically groped the guy, even if he didn’t mean anything by it. He groped a guy who’s been physically - and most likely also sexually - abused for who knows how long, touched him dangerously close to areas he definitely does not want to be touched in by anyone anytime soon. The realisation makes Tony sick and he has to swallow a few times to get rid of the nausea threatening to turn his stomach.

“Shit, Loki, I’m sorry,” he says in the end, cringing at how lame and inadequate an apology it is. God, he’s fucking disgusting sometimes. “I didn’t mean to... fuck, really, I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to touch you, not _there_ , I mean. I swear, I wouldn’t. Never. Just, pregnant men aren’t really a thing here and curiosity got the best of me and I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

The urge to reach out again and console is strong, but Tony pushes it firmly down. He’s fucked up enough, no need to make it worse than it already is. If that’s even possible.

“Loki, please,” he whispers, watching helplessly as the man continues scratching at his neck, the first rivulets of blood slowly making their way out from under the too tight leather. And why hasn’t he taken that infernal thing off him yet anyway? Fuck! “Loki, stop. You’re hurting yourself. Please. Let me...” he trails off and shifts closer, hands hovering uncertainly above the collar.

Tony doesn’t want to touch and scare Loki further, but he has to do _something_. He can’t think clearly and startles to notice his vision is blacking out. His heart is picking up speed, the telling cold sweat making his shirt stick to his back. He’s of sound enough mind still to know he’s about to go into full panic mode and that it’s too late to stop it with Loki suffering the same fate right there next to him. 

But then Loki cries out and Tony sees, out of the corner of his eye, Bruce carefully pulling a syringe out of the trickster’s thigh. The doctor shoots him a furious look that has Tony flinch back but also regain some of his composure.

“Tony, get him some fresh clothes,” Bruce grits out and Tony scrambles up to do as ordered, glad to be getting some direction.

He practically runs over to his dresser and fishes out a pair of sweatpants before returning to the bed where he stands behind Bruce, unsure of what to do next.

“Loki, you’re going to feel a little groggy shortly,” Bruce explains gently, ignoring his friend for the moment. “It’s nothing to worry about, okay? I gave you something that will help you calm down and take away some of the pain.”

Loki nods, although going by his dazed expression, whatever Bruce administered is already taking effect. He catches sight of Tony again and immediately stretches out his arms for the engineer, keening softly and confusedly in the back of his throat. 

Tony looks down at Bruce for permission and when the doctor shrugs, brows furrowed and apparently equally uncertain as to what’s the best course of action, nothing can hold him anymore. He darts back to Loki’s side, huffing out a relieved breath when the former god promptly comes to lean against him once more.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers again, struggling with the stupid collar for a moment before he manages to get it off and has to shut his eyes at the sight of Loki’s neck. The leather rubbed the skin raw, some places already scabbed over and filled with pus while others look fresh or are bleeding again after Loki’s ministrations. It’s a right mess.

“Tony,” Bruce says after a moment and Tony blinks, realising Loki is sound asleep with his hands loosely curled into Tony’s shirt.

Here he is, behaving like a complete and total asshole and Loki, for some unfathomable reason, deemed him to be safe which is just about the most heartbreaking thing Tony’s ever witnessed.

They’re quiet while they get rid of the rest of Loki’s ragged tunic. They don’t speak as Bruce stitches up, disinfects and bandages the tricksters back and neck and when he moves down between the man’s legs and, with a face more ashen than Tony’s ever seen it, confirms their earlier suspicions, Tony dry-heaves over the edge of the bed.

He helps to manoeuvre Loki into the too short pants and tuck him in, listening half-heartedly to Bruce informing him what’s in the IV he’s putting up - something to keep Loki comfortably asleep for the time being, pain meds, nutritional stuff, antibiotics just to make sure - and shakes his head when Bruce makes to leave and asks if he’s coming with.

“I need a moment.”

Bruce nods gravely and mutters something about preparing lunch on his way out.

The moment the door closes behind the doctor, Tony breaks down. He sits, carefully holds Loki’s needle-free hand between his own and cries until his throat hurts and his eyes itch.

Until he’s numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry. This chapter is fucking depressing. I’d like to say the next one’s a bit cheerier, but well. It’s not.


	9. Rock & Roll is here to stay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter was inspired by (stolen from) Sha Na Na’s [Rock&Roll Is Here To Stay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMOW-j55txY).
> 
> Also, I married Bruce and Betty Ross because I can. And because I have a huge crush on Liv Tyler. Shut up, I do what I want! 
> 
> And finally, I have a question for you guys. Even though I chose to ignore _Iron Man 3_ and _Thor: The Dark World_ for the sake of this fic, I intend to make use of some of the things that took place in _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ as well as the _Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._ series, mainly so I can introduce Bucky into the story. I like Bucky. Bucky is cool (pun totally intended). So, my question; do I create this super awesome bromance between Bucky and Steve or do I make them a full-on couple? I can’t decide *groans* I’m fond of both ideas, so I really don’t know yet. Any input?

**Chapter IX - Rock & Roll is here to stay!**

* * *

Tony knows he looks like shit when he finally emerges from his bedroom, what with his eyes wet and rubbed red and the rest of his face all blotchy and disgusting. He’s too exhausted to care, though, he feels drained and oddly empty and just plain wrong.

He heads straight for the bar and pours himself two fingers of scotch. Bruce, for once, doesn’t say anything about drinking before noon and keeps busying himself in the kitchen, shuffling vegetables around in a frying pan and stirring something or other in another pot every now and again.

The alcohol burns pleasantly all the way down his throat and Tony tops up and empties his glass twice before making his way over to his friend. He walks up close, presses his face between Bruce’s shoulder blades and winds his arms around the man’s chest, simply holding on and breathing until it doesn’t feel like he’s in free fall anymore.

Bruce is good at that. At grounding Tony without actually doing much of anything beside reaching back and briefly squeezing the engineer’s neck before going back to his cooking.

They don’t need words with each other and that’s probably the main reason Tony appreciates the man so much. Where Tony is all giddy energy and mood swings, Bruce is radiating calmness and stability and while he’d never openly admit to it, those are exactly the things Tony needs in order for his relationships to function properly - romantic or otherwise.

He doesn’t even know how they shifted from occasionally working in the lab together to this strictly platonic yet reassuringly domestic friendship with the casual hugs and the good-natured bantering. The whole thing just kinda crept up on him and now they’re basically an old married couple, as the other Avengers - especially Clint, the fucker - love to point out and tease them about. Clint and Betty who, much to Tony’s smug delight and everyone else’s surprise, is entirely unbothered by her husband and Iron Man playing house from time to time.

“What’re you making?” Tony mumbles against his friend’s back, not quite ready to let go and face the other person he’s been an absolute dick to today.

“Vegetable curry,” comes the amused reply, damned vegetarians, followed by a piece of aubergine Tony accepts with a grunt and a sniff to convey his enormous and totally justified displeasure with the lack of meat. Bruce snorts at that and nudges him in the stomach so he can turn around. “I haven’t been around in a week, meaning you haven’t ingested anything but junk food, coffee and booze for a solid seven days. If you remembered eating at all, that is.”

“I’ll have you know that I ordered a salad with my dinner yesterday, _mother_ ,” Tony pouts as he walks over to the shopping bags still strewn about the sitting area and starts to carelessly empty them out onto the nearest flat surface.

“It only counts if you actually eat it,” Bruce sighs, eyes flickering over to the plastic container full of limp greens lying forgotten next to an empty pizza box.

Tony shrugs. “I had good intentions.”

Bruce seems entirely unimpressed as he refocuses on preparing his stupid, healthy lunch, leaving Tony to sort out his messes - the one now piling up on the sofa as well as the one presumably still hiding away in a nook somewhere.

At least JARVIS did a marvellous job with the shopping, Tony thinks with a small but genuine smile, pulling a child-sized set of band shirts with matching socks out of one of the bags. “If you had a body, I’d kiss you,” he announces seriously to the ceiling, unfolding and laying out the tiny pieces of clothing.

_“You make me feel so special, sir,”_ the AI remarks dryly, rudely unaffected by the compliment, which causes Bruce to chuckle and Tony to scowl at the closest of JARVIS’ sensors. _“I took the liberty of acquiring a variety of different styles to choose from, ranging from your personal tastes to what I’ve been informed is currently considered most fashionable.”_

Tony hums his acknowledgement even as he discards a frilly mint-coloured dress with a dissatisfied nose wrinkle. In the end, he carries the band shirts and socks as well as some simple jeans and black Chucks over to Ana’s hiding spot, intent on making good use of the hopefully still present impressionability - _someone_ has to cultivate the next generation of rock-appreciators, after all.

Plopping down on the floor in front of the small bot compartment, he pulls back the plastic flap and peers inside, greeted by suspicious emerald eyes glaring defiantly back at him. Right. Shit.

“Hi,” he tries and slowly slides his peace offerings closer to the girl. “I brought you something to wear in your own size.”

The relieved breath Tony hadn’t even realised he was holding leaves him in an almost painful rush when Ana reaches out and pulls the items toward her, inspecting them curiously. Her face suddenly lights up and she shoots a proud look over at Tony, pointing from his much too big shirt she’s wearing to one of her new ones she’s brandishing in her free hand - both sporting Black Sabbath logos, albeit different ones.

“You can read,” Tony exclaims once he makes the connection, mirroring the girl’s gleeful expression and clapping his hands together. “Bruce, what age do kids start reading?” he demands, swivelling around to face the other man who’s watching them with what can only be described as affection, the big softie.

“Well, I-“

“No matter,” Tony interrupts and jumps up, jogging over to the coffee table to pick up a pen and notebook before bolting back to Ana, grinning manically all the while. “What about writing? Can you write? Your name, maybe?”

Ana seems taken aback by his enthusiasm but accepts the writing utensils Tony slides across to her and starts scribbling something down, scrunching up her face and biting her tongue in concentration.

“Come on,” Tony urges, almost vibrating with excited energy at the prospect of a new means of communication, “get out here and show me.”

What follows happens so quickly, it takes Tony what feels like an eternity to catch up and realise what’s going on. One moment, Ana is holding the pen and the next it clatters to the floor, her eyes growing wide as her hands surge up to clutch at her head. In any other circumstances, he’d be more than happy that she’s making any sound at all, but the scream that’s ripped out of her throat is filled with so much raw pain and anguish, Tony would give up his fortune and the drinking _and_ the sex on top of it without hesitation just to make it stop.

Trembling all over, Ana begins to crawl, tears staining reddened cheeks, and all but collapses against Tony’s knees once she’s back out in the open, sobbing quietly but earnestly.

And Tony doesn’t waste a second before picking her up and cradling her limp body close, rubbing her back and running soothing fingers through her hair as he paces and gently bounces the girl against his side. “Shush, it’s okay, you’re fine. I’m sorry, I forgot. I won’t do it again, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing the top of her head and the hand that’s come up to curl into the collar of his shirt.

“What’s going on?” Bruce asks, voice laced with worry, and comes to stand next to them, tentatively placing one hand on the girl’s shoulder and the other on Tony’s back for additional comfort and support respectively.

“Fucking magic,” Tony spits, not sure if he’s angrier with Asgard and its twisted ideas of crime and punishment or himself for abusing his new status as master, even if it happened unconsciously and completely by accident. He should have remembered, he’s supposed to be a genius, for fuck’s sake!

Bruce frowns at him, understandably confused. “Magic?”

“Yeah,” Tony nods, trying and failing to ignore how empty and bereft he feels as the other man carefully eases the dazed girl out of his arms and carries her back over to the sofa, doctorly concern now fuelling his actions. Ana not protesting makes the whole thing even more unbearable.

He absently presses his palm over the arc reactor, over his heart, rubbing at the cold glass. “It’s complicated, I have no idea how it works. They’re both magically linked to me or something so they can only ever go where I allow them to go,” he explains, then adds, with a wince, “Don’t touch the shackles, though, I nearly got fried when I tried earlier.”

“And defying you means pain,” Bruce concludes, gently laying the girl down and crouching next to her. “Go make sure the curry doesn’t get scorched.”

Knowing a dismissal when he hears one, Tony dejectedly scuffles over to the kitchen, coughing and giving his eyes a discrete swipe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might seem like I’m a bit obsessed with Black Sabbath... which is totally true. BUT. I have my reasons. They’re coming to Zurich on Friday and it’s going to be so fucking awesome! So forgive my mentioning them in practically every chapter. (I think it was two chapters, actually, but whatever. Carry on.)


	10. Making Amends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all get an early chapter today because I'm still sick. Or sick again. Whatever. Anyway, I'm tired and only a bit embarrassed to be going to bed before eight, so yeah. Early chapter.
> 
> Also, for those of you who care, Black Sabbath were _awesome!_

**Chapter X - Making Amends**

* * *

Remembering that he doesn’t actually know how to cook anything apart from bacon, toast and frozen dinners he can just shove into the oven, Tony turns off the stove and pushes the bubbling curry away from the heat. Which will just have to do. And if he’s somehow ruined it, it’s Bruce’s fault for even letting him into the kitchen in the first place.

Chancing a quick glance over to the sitting area only shows the doctor’s head, bent over and murmuring quietly to the presumably still groggy Ana, and his hands fiddling with some bandages before they too vanish behind the back of the sofa.

Tony wants nothing more than to join them, but he’s probably done enough damage for one day. Or ten. Or a whole damn lifetime. So instead he goes to collect the girl’s clothes where they’re still lying forgotten on the floor, grumbling to himself about the sheer unfairness of the situation until his eyes land on the small notebook Ana dropped earlier.

Intrigued and curious, he bends and picks it up, unable to suppress the fond little smile tugging at his lips as he scans the shaky yet clearly discernible handwriting. As requested, she wrote down her own full name, _Analía_ , followed, unsurprisingly, by _Papa_ , _Loki_ , _Ana_ and then, which is rather unexpected, _Toni_ and _Brus_.

And while the last two are spelt incorrectly, Tony couldn’t care less, thrilled as he is about the fact that she seems to have more than just a basic understanding of the English language, proven by her ability to write down words she’s presumably never encountered before simply by hearing them being spoken out loud.

It’s a bit advanced for a three-year-old, Tony muses, especially one who most likely never had the fortune of attending kindergarten or pre-school or whatever variety thereof they have up in Asgard. Then again, Loki has clearly proven himself to be quite clever if somewhat murderous during his last visit, so there’s no reason his daughter shouldn’t have inherited some of that intelligence.

But; _English_. Sure, Thor, Loki and the three brutes who delivered Ana and her father all speak it, but the slaver guys also said some stuff in a Nordic-sounding kind of language. One of those with two vowels squished together into a single letter or that other one with the randomly crossed out _O_ s. And didn’t the Vikings use runes, the ones from Earth at any rate?

“JARVIS,” Tony calls, because if someone’s privy to that sort of information, it’s the machine who’s hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D., the CIA, MI5 and pretty much every other government agency around the world - more than once, in some cases. And people think Siri is a godsend. Morons, honestly. “What do you know about Asgard? Like, native language, that sort of thing?”

_“Not very much, I’m afraid,”_ the AI answers promptly, causing Tony to huff in impatient frustration. _“But there are records of Mr Thor Odinson mentioning a thing called Allspeak on the S.H.I.E.L.D. high security servers,”_ he continues and, even though it shouldn’t be possible, he sounds smug about it. _“Allspeak, as Mr Odinson explained during his stay on the helicarrier, allows those in possession of it to understand and speak every language known in the Nine Realms. I would imagine this also includes written words.”_

“So, what?” Tony considers, rubbing at his forehead. “Ana translated what she wanted to write from Asgardian or whatever to English? Or does it happen automatically, like, depending on what the person opposite her is likely to understand? Or is she making me think I see what I’m used to see and there’s actually a bunch of strange, foreign lines and squiggles on that paper?”

He knows JARVIS won’t be able to answer any of that since he’s fairly sure S.H.I.E.L.D. don’t know either, which does nothing to milden the surge of disappointment or prevent the string of curses when the AI tells him so.

“Why don’t you bring those over here and help her dress?”

Startled out of his thoughts by Bruce’s query, Tony dumbly stares at the clothing in his hands for a few moments before shaking himself and taking the few steps over to the sofa.

Ana is, once again, standing on the coffee table and looking much better, at least from what Tony can tell. Her ribs are wrapped up tightly in bright yellow bandages and a couple of band-aids cover the worst of the smaller injuries. Bruce is gently pressing an emergency thingy filled with that weird blue cooling gel to the back of her head while she’s busy frowning down at the Iron Man underwear they now apparently own, thanks to JARVIS’ weird albeit appreciated sense of humour.

“How’s the head?” Tony asks, uncertain and wary about how she’s going to react to the man who yelled at everyone in the room, made her father panic - which he desperately hopes she didn’t hear - and then basically caused her an instant-migraine.

Holding grudges doesn’t appear to be a thing with her, however, since she meets his eyes without hesitation, gives a little shrug and wrinkles her nose.

“Better but still sore?” Bruce guesses and she nods, rubbing at her forehead and sighing when he moves the cooling packet there. “You can have something to make the pain go away with lunch. How about Tony helps you to get dressed and I go and get everything ready?”

Ana nods again and Bruce grunts disapprovingly when he’s practically shouldered out of the way by an over-eager Tony desperate to take his place.

“Idiot,” the doctor sighs as he walks back over to check on their food, although he can’t help smiling at the already so pronounced protectiveness Tony’s showing toward Ana and, albeit in a smaller quantity, Loki. The whole thing has the potential to not only help the undoubtedly scarred aliens heal and recover, but also to aid Tony in getting over the still sore subject of _The Incident_ , as they came to call it.

It’ll be good for him, Bruce decides and then groans in annoyance at the dark tendrils of smoke swirling around the stove. “Tony-“

“You should have ordered a pizza or something,” the engineer calls back, completely unapologetic, before turning his attention back to the girl. “All right, let’s do this.”

They make good progress, the dressing going much smoother this time now that Ana isn’t actively resisting everything he does and helps as much as possible, given how limited her mobility is due to the thick, supporting bandages.

She seems fascinated by the shoes and Tony has to tie and untie them several times for her until she swats at his hands, gracelessly plops down onto her backside and struggles through mimicking his movements. Which ends in the messiest bow Tony’s ever seen, but it’s not like he’s going to say anything, not when Ana beams up at him with the biggest smile he’s seen on her so far, visibly proud with her achievement.

“Look at that,” he grins instead, nodding seriously, and absently strokes his fingers through her curly hair. “Clever thing, you.”

Ana puffs out her chest at the praise and leans into his hand, humming in what sounds like happy contentment. Which only makes Tony feel terrible all over again.

“Listen,” he begins and bites his lip, then realises what he’s doing and stops, scowling at nothing in particular. “I really am sorry. About everything. You are safe here, I promise. And I know I hurt you and again, I’m so fucking sorry about that. But I swear to you that I won’t let anything else happen to you or your dad. I don’t really know what went down back in Magic Fairyland or why you’re here or where you came from exactly, but I’ll make sure that you’ll never have to go back there. Nothing of that idiotic slave business anymore, all right? That’s not how we do things around here. You’re my guests and will be treated accordingly. Okay?”

He isn’t a hundred percent sure Ana really understands what’s going on, but he’ll be damned if he can’t keep her safe and happy. No matter what twisted plan of Odin’s sent her here or how much he still resents Loki for the whole invasion business, the two of them are his responsibility now. And as startling and frightening as it is to realise that, Tony’s determined to see this thing through to the end. Whatever that might be.

“Okay, how about this,” he suggests and stands, his heart very nearly skipping a beat when Ana actually holds out her arms to be picked up, “we go eat and afterwards I give you a proper tour of the penthouse. And then we can go visit with your dad for a while, how about that?”

He takes the brilliant smile as a yes and cuddles the girl close, chuckling freely for the first time that day when he accidentally tickles her stomach and she gives an indignant squeak before burying her face against him, giggling silently into his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happier times have arrived. Finally! More fluffy Tony&Ana bonding in the next few chapters before we're back to the drama. 
> 
> Also, several people have asked about Ana's (other) father in the comments, so here's what I can say without spoiling too much; we will meet him later in the story, he's an original character (and an elf, because why the fuck not?), he's a giant douche (obviously) and Tony might or might not go completely ballistic when he turns up and threatens him with an intergalactic war. Because Tony gets possessive and protective like that.


	11. Talk of Toilets and Parental Responsibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Slightly drunk and about to start losing his shit when he realises what kind of responsibility he has now’-Tony is my new favourite Tony. And let’s all appreciate how I managed to write three paragraphs about toilets and blame Tony’s three scotches for that, yes? Good.

**Chapter XI - Talk of Toilets and Parental Responsibilities**

* * *

Tony watches in badly suppressed amusement as Bruce tries - and fails - to bring across the usefulness of cutlery, snickering like the immature man-child he is and affecting an innocent expression that’s completely unconvincing every time the doctor turns to shoot him exasperated glares.

Ana, though, is eager to please and the two men decide to call it a success when she starts picking up the rice with her fingers and depositing it on her spoon before dipping it into the sauce. Besides, it’s not like Tony, the man who once ordered a Burger King cheeseburger in a five star restaurant after deeming their croquettes dry and ew, actually gives a fuck about appropriate dining behaviour.

One small dose of Tylenol and some disgusted huffing on Ana’s part later, her and Tony are on their way to start the promised tour. Which is totally not an excuse to get out of helping with the dishes and ‘Yes, it is important that we do this _now_ , Bruce, thanks for cleaning up, I love you, buddy!’

The girl doesn’t seem to care much for his office, but then again, neither does Tony who tries his best spend as little time as possible in there. Sitting behind that stupid desk means having to do actual paperwork which is mind-meltingly boring and an enormous waste of time better spent experimenting or inventing or tinkering or shooting things or bickering with J or sleeping or being dead. Anything, really. 

The library, on the other hand, has her eyes grow wide with awe and the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows in the one furnished guest room - Note to self; need to buy stuff to outfit the empty room for Ana. Shopping, yay! Shut up, it’s fun, all right? - elicit much the same reaction.

And then there’s the ensuite bathroom where they spend a good five minutes flushing the toilet and watching the water swirl and vanish which Ana appears to find absolutely fascinating. The situation gets a bit awkward after Tony explains what the amenity is actually for and two things become very clear; technology hasn’t advanced to and beyond the ‘we think it is time to stop shitting in a hole’ stage up in Asgard and modesty is for squares. Or something like that.

Because the moment Tony’s little speech about water jets and automatically warmed seats is through, Ana simply drops her pants and underwear and just _goes_. Right there. In front of him. Which. Yeah, okay.

Then again, this is definitely what he prefers to the alternative of changing diapers because no. Just no. Speaking of which, how often do Gods need to relieve themselves? Loki will be sleeping for a couple of days at least, from what Bruce suggested, and Tony’s not overly fond of having some soil his bed and _fuck_ , this train of thought got extremely weird extremely fast.

Letting the doctor deal with that one. Yep. If it isn’t too late already.

Tony has to forcefully shake himself out of his musings and finds the girl staring up at him, fully clothed again, so he helps her up to reach the sink and wash her hands.

He intended to show her the balcony and, most importantly, the workshop as well in order for her to get to know the layout of the entire penthouse, in case of emergencies. Because let’s face it; there are a lot of those where Tony’s involved.

But Ana seems anxious and distracted, keeps shooting glances at the door and in the general direction of Loki’s current whereabouts.

Abandoning his original plan, Tony scoops her up again, still delighted that he’s now allowed to do this with only a minimal amount of involuntary tensing on her part. “You wanna see your dad, hm?” he sighs, a bit miffed at having his stalling caught out.

It’s not like he can’t understand her priorities, he too would want to make sure the only family he knows was all right if their situations were reversed. And if his parents hadn’t been total fuckwits. Well, Howard mostly.

But, selfish as it might be, he’s dreading their reunion. Ana has perked up so much over the course of the morning, it’d be a shame to have her see her father and withdraw again. Maybe even blame Tony for his current state. Which would be partly justified after all.

He adores relaxed, smiling, giggling Ana. Crying Ana, not so much. It hurts to watch and makes his chest go all tight and his heart feel funny. And not in the known ‘my arc reactor is poisoning me’ or ‘my hangover is trying to kill me’ or even ‘fuck, the love of my life decided to tell me it’s over right after I proposed to her’ kind of way. Which, admittedly, all suck very much, but this is different.

Is there a term for falling in love with a little girl at first sight that doesn’t make him sound like a massive pervert or creep? Shit, downing three glasses of high-proof alcohol before lunch probably hadn’t been the best of ideas. His mind tends to take strange turns whenever he drinks on an empty stomach.

There’s nothing for it, though, Tony promised and he can’t, in good conscience, keep her away from her father and prevent her from convincing herself that he’s fine. Well, alive. More or less. Tony doesn’t even dare to think what he’d do should Loki drift off to Valhalla and effectively leave him a single parent to a tiny, mute alien.

_Parent_. Fuck. Moving on!

Loki, when they enter Tony’s bedroom, is still sprawled across the mattress on his stomach in order to grant the wounds on his back some much needed relief. His left hand is carefully pulled to the side and away from him as not to disturb the IV line while the other is curled up tightly by his disturbingly pale face.

He looks small and vulnerable and while the rational part of Tony’s brain knew exactly what to expect, he’s still surprised by the sight. In all honesty, finding the trickster awake and snarling or hurling insults at him would have been preferable to this.

_This_ feels so wrong.

Ana squirms in his arms, so Tony walks them over to the bed and deposits her next to the slumbering man. The girl, unlike him, seems pretty unfazed by her father’s unresponsiveness, once again proving just how much fucked up shit she must have been through already in her young life.

Tony, after hovering uncertainly for a moment, picks up the Stark Pad from the bedside table and joins them, sitting with his legs folded under himself at the foot of the bed to work on some upgrades for his suits, wishing to at least give them a resemblance of privacy while he finds himself unable to leave completely.

A quick glance at Ana shows her carding her small fingers through Loki’s tangled hair, working out knots and separating strands into what Tony assumes is preparation for some kind of braid. He smiles, equal parts glad and sad that playing with her unconscious father doesn’t seem to disturb her at all, and leaves her to it, losing himself in numbers, algorithms and design choices.

It’s weirdly peaceful, lounging there on his bed, working on his stuff with a war-criminal from outer space lying not two feet away from him, the only sounds the tapping of his fingers against the pad and the rustling of Ana’s clothes whenever she shifts or changes position.

Usually, Tony isn’t good with prolonged bouts of silence, would ask JARVIS to turn on and crank up some AC/DC to drown out anything not connected to his work - the shadows of the nightmares that never really go away, not even with the light of a new day, the memories, the thoughts about this and that and everything else, spiralling out of control and running away from him in every possible direction until he’s unable to concentrate and convinced his head is about to burst.

But right now, he’s content. The silence isn’t oppressive or all-consuming, doesn’t bring with it reminders of an empty place between worlds, between dimensions, filled with dark, bone-chilling nothingness. It’s simply... quiet.

Tony doesn’t realise how much time has passed until there’s an almost shy knock on the door and Bruce steps into the room two hours later. “You shouldn’t let her sleep too long unless you want her to stay up all night,” he whispers.

And sure enough, Ana has wriggled her way under the covers and tucked herself under Loki’s limp arm, eyes closed and a thumb sucked between slightly parted lips. On a whim, Tony fishes out his phone and snaps a picture.

“What? It’s cute,” he defends himself when Bruce starts chuckling. “Besides, we can use it as leverage in case Dark Legolas over there decides to go crazy again. Threaten to expose his sweet, cuddly side to the papers or something.”

Bruce merely shakes his head and turns around to head back out. “You’re an idiot.”

“Well, yeah,” Tony agrees, grinning now as he lets his eyes wander over the two sleeping Æsir. “An idiot who can officially claim to have shared a bed with a deity!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it’s _technically_ true, isn’t it? Even if said deity was unconscious and all...
> 
> Also, Loki's new [Legolas hair](http://www.dreamweaverbraiding.com/images/Examples/variations/legolas1.jpg). Yeah, I researched hair and stuff, shut up!
> 
> And I think it’s important to mention that I won’t be demonising Pepper in this story, despite what that little line in this chapter might made you think. The relationship between her and Tony and why it didn’t work out will be hinted at throughout the fic, but I’m not going down the ‘Pepper is a heartless bitch and doesn’t even fucking deserve Tony’ lane so many people seem to choose. I like Pepper and I like Pepper and Tony together, I really do. It’s just that I like Tony and Loki together better. So yeah. 
> 
> What you can expect from the next few chapters; Tony and Bruce discovering some new, intriguing and unexpected things about Ana, Tony being an idiot (duh), Tony taking Ana to a Stark Industries meeting because what can go wrong?, a shopping trip, paparazzi and Loki waking up and being confused as hell because _Tony_.
> 
> Oh, oh, oh! I almost forgot; I have a [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/) now! I made it out of peer pressure and mostly use it to stalk other people, but hey, I'll follow all of you and share your stuff if you want to. You know, for the two or so people who actually follow me. I'm still working on it, all right? Gee...


	12. Adults can enjoy Aladdin, too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler chapter, sorry about that. The story will pick up very soon, though. 
> 
> In other news; a huge thanks to everyone who joined me on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/). You’re all amazing. Simultaneously, though, you’re all terrible people for reading and not leaving a review. The amount of comments per chapter has steadily been going down since Loki went to sleep again and is generally lower when he’s not around. You guys are all just waiting for some hot FrostIron sexy times, aren’t ya? Pfft, typical. Filthy perverts. 
> 
> (But seriously, we’ll get there. In time. No rush. Tony will have to be really nice and sweet and buy Loki lots of pretty, shiny things first.)

**Chapter XII - Adults can enjoy Aladdin, too!**

* * *

JARVIS might just be some kind of genius. Not a ‘high-end, brilliant in all possible ways philanthropist who’s also extremely handsome’ sort of genius like Tony, but not a too shabby one either.

Because, as it turns out after Tony rifles through the rest of the shopping to hang up Ana’s and Loki’s new clothes in the guest room - hey, that shit was expensive and letting it lay around would make the fabric crease and why the fuck is he even defending himself, fashion is fun, damn it! - one of the bags contains a multitude of stuff perfect for entertaining a little girl.

Not that Tony was ever worried about that. Not until he saw the colouring books and crayons and board and card games and it started to register that he would actually have to entertain and feed and care for another human being. Well, kind of human being, but whatever. At least they already mastered bathing and could check potty training off the list.

And anyway, who does that snarky British mess of cables and circuits even think he is? Ordering things Tony didn’t explicitly request, going off on his own and thinking he knows better.

_Please!_

“I’m retracting my earlier statement about you, J. You’re an annoying, meddlesome bastard in desperate need of some recalibration,” Tony huffs and scowls at the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest in a show of massive and extremely justified petulance.

Honestly. He’s perfectly capable of being a responsible adult. He can even think it without cringing or grimacing. Mostly. At least he’s able to delude himself into thinking he can think it without doing any of that. That’s something, right?

_“Whatever you say, Sir,”_ comes the dry reply and Tony shoots one last glare at the AI’s camera-eye before stalking back out to the main area of the penthouse.

Bruce is sitting at the breakfast bar with his head ducked in an attempt to hide his amused expression, eyes firmly fixed on the slice of toast and jar peanut butter in front of him.

“Do not encourage him,” the engineer warns, causing the other man to hold up his hands in surrender even as his lips twitch with just barely contained chuckles. “All that talking back is giving me a headache.”

_“I learned from the best, Sir,”_ the AI says sweetly and Bruce finally bursts out laughing, earning himself a hard poke in the ribs.

“You know, I’m taking that as a compliment to my above average conversational skills,” Tony announces snootily, trying not to show exactly how much he’s enjoying the back-and-forth snarking, and cheekily plucks the slice of bread out of Bruce’s hand before fleeing to the sitting area.

Ana is still where he left her half an hour ago, comfortably tucked into the corner of the couch with several books and partly finished pictures scattered around her, playing Angry Birds on a Stark Pad. She’d been sceptical at first, confused by the tablet and then the concept of the game, but after the initial explanation and a bit of help, she’d happily started smashing things and fighting piggies.

Tony picks up one of the pictures as he flops down next to her, eyebrows shooting up in bemusement, the toast hovering forgotten halfway up to his mouth. It’s hard to tell if she’s making things up or if Asgard actually houses giant creatures with two heads that appear to be half lion and half goat. Maybe it’s their version of puppies or kittens, who knows?

An irritated huff has him looking over at the girl and grinning at the expression of pure frustration on her tiny, scrunched-up face. He carefully sets the drawing back down before reaching over and pulling her into his lap, resting his chin on her shoulder to be able to see the screen.

“Try one of the little blue ones,” he suggests and Ana does, finishing the level with an exclamation of surprised joy.

She tips her head back to smile at him, then proceeds to close her eyes and affectionately rub her cheek against his, grumbling a bit when she encounters some stubble.

It’s humbling, Tony thinks as he folds his legs under himself and winds his arms around her, mindful of the bruised ribs, to have gained so much of her trust in such a short time. Sure, most kids tend to instantly like him, but they know him as Iron Man, the guy who flies around in a cool suit and saves the city every other day.

Ana, though, definitely doesn’t have that picture in mind when she snuggles closer against his chest and starts playing again. To her, he was introduced as the person now owning her and her father’s lives, someone she should, going by what she already went through, fear. But there she is, letting him hold her mere hours after she nearly had a meltdown when he just stepped close to her. Believing him when he tells her he won’t harm her and trusting him, in turn, to keep her safe.

Tony, for all his talk about his genius level intellect, has no idea why. And it scares him. Like, a fucking lot.

There’s no logic behind her actions, meaning she’s either stupid - which he sincerely doubts - or decided him to be safe. Just like Loki did earlier. And that’s a little weird, isn’t it? What Tony wants most at the moment, apart from none of this ever having happened to either of them in the first place, is to offer help. A refuge, a place to calm down and settle and heal. And somehow, strangely enough and despite all the blowbacks they’ve suffered so far, that message seems to be coming across.

Which would be nice if it weren’t for that voice somewhere in the back of Tony’s head, whispering to him that something’s not quite right. He’s not trustworthy or nurturing, doesn’t inspire feelings of safety and reassurance. He’s not a good or even nice person. Even if he tries to be, it’s simply not him, as almost everyone around him keeps reminding him.

And yet. The two people who have the least of reasons whatsoever to believe a single word that comes out of his mouth are two of the only people in a long time to actually want to trust him.

It makes no sense, none at all, and Tony pushes the doubts and the lingering sense of unease back down and away, into a dark corner of his brain along with all the other things that are only ever allowed out to party when he’s had way too much to drink.

***

After being fed a snack by Bruce - sandwiches with peanut butter, jelly and sliced bananas - the three of them spend the remainder of the afternoon unpacking and trying out some of the games with varying success.

For dinner they order burgers after Tony whines for a good ten minutes and then spread out on the sofa to watch a movie. Ana is fascinated by the moving pictures and the Genie’s magic and devours half of the bowl of popcorn all by herself.

Shortly after seven she starts yawning and rubbing at her eyes, but seems determined to stay awake through to the end of the film. By eight she’s a dead weight against Tony, so he carries her to the guest room to tuck her in and if he takes more time than strictly necessary to watch her peaceful features for a few minutes and kiss the crown of her head, well, nobody will ever know. Nobody but JARVIS who’s been threatened with complete deletion, so that’s okay.

He accompanies Bruce to the elevator and has to assure him at least a dozen times that they’ll be fine. Probably. The doctor doesn’t look convinced, promising to come by first thing in the morning before his lectures start to check on everyone and again in the afternoon until Tony bodily shoves him into the cabin.

It’s then Tony realises there’s no empty bed left available in the penthouse, but since he doesn’t feel like sleeping on one of the guest levels, he grabs some spare blankets and pillows along with the contract - about time he reads that - and curls up in one of the armchairs.

Unfortunately if not unexpectedly, the damned thing doesn’t really clue him in as to what’s going on. There’s the part about ownership, a brief summary of a trial that mentions neither the charges nor the outcome and something resembling a birth certificate for Ana. The Asgardian legal system, it seems, is absolutely useless.

And it’s not like he can just call someone up, there’s _literally_ no one on Earth who can help him out. The only other Æsir he even knows is Thor who hasn’t been spotted in half a decade and probably couldn’t operate a phone if the universe’s ongoing existence depended on it.

He has no way of contacting the thunderer unless-

“JARVIS!”

The chances this will bring some useable results are slim, but hey, he flew into a space portal filled with enemy aliens, so there. He’s all about taking risks.

_“Sir?”_

“Find Doctor Jane Foster and place a call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s own trust issues are showing there for a moment. Stop projecting them on sweet little Ana, you moron! 
> 
> Also, the creature she’s drawing is a [Chimera](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chimera_%28mythology%29). I was searching for mythological creatures/animals, but the most interesting ones were all Greek. Then I remembered that, hey, this is my story and I can do whatever the fuck I want. So, there you have it. 
> 
> Damn, now I really want a pet Griffin.


	13. Fuck the Tesseract

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something to consider before reading this chapter;
> 
> I realise there are quite literally hundreds of theories concerning Loki and his alien invasion, but please bear in mind that what we see here is merely Tony’s recollection of what transpired that day and the conclusions he drew from that. It isn’t the entire picture of what I have in mind for this story, so don’t get your knickers in a twist, my lovelies. 
> 
> Also, I’m sure some of you will be disappointed by how I chose to resolve the issue of Loki’s involvement in the invasion and that’s all right. There were so many ways I could have taken this and this here, starting with Tony’s ideas and theories, is what I decided on. 
> 
> That’s all. Carry on.

**Chapter XIII - Fuck the Tesseract**

* * *

The thing is, after the battle of New York, after the Æsir had left for home and everyone had been debriefed and the city rebuilt and first weeks, then months and even years had passed, Tony was left with questions and no one to answer them.

He still has them today, actually.

Because you can’t stage an invasion and go up against a team of possibly the most diversely trained fighters, assassins, spies, geniuses and big green rage monsters without anyone becoming suspicious about all the little things that don’t add up. And there were kind of a lot of those.

But while the rest of the Avengers and involved S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel all moved on after some time, resigned to the fact that Thor and Loki were gone for good along with the Chitauri army, Tony kept wondering. Obsessively so at first, earning himself more than a few raised eyebrows and taunts from the rest of the team about his ‘crush’ on the God of Mischief and his obvious inability to get over the whole thing.

And yeah, okay, maybe he had been nursing the tiniest little crush at the time, Loki was incredibly handsome and witty and clever, after all. That aside, though, there was still the fact that the rest of the team hadn’t seen what Tony had seen, flying through that portal into whatever the hell that was where he ended up. They didn’t know, they didn’t _understand._

So Tony shut up about it eventually and didn’t mention the incident and all the stupid details that felt so _wrong_ anymore, kept his research to himself.

The questions, however, are as present as ever in his mind, even more so know that he has an actual opportunity of getting some answers. It makes him almost giddy, the thought of finding out if all the theories he’s spun over the years are in fact more than just theories. If there’s some truth to them and if there is, just what the _fuck_ happened that day.

Because what he’s come up with so far is that the invasion was bound to fail and that Loki damn well knew it. Thor mentioned his brother was a tactician, the brains of the operation, so to speak, whenever they went hunting or out to fight some other weird alien race. The guy in the background, planning and scheming and keeping track of the happenings.

Which he failed at spectacularly from where Tony’s sitting. Stark Tower is the ultimate power source, so he kind of gets why he chose that location. But he must’ve known that a bottleneck war against a prepared and ready enemy had a very low chance of achieving his goal of world domination.

The Chitrauri, after coming through the portal, had stayed in a radius of about five blocks of it, never venturing any further away. Which could be attributed to their shared consciousness and nervous system, but the synthetic weapons S.H.I.E.L.D. picked after the battle and Tony, in turn, stole from them worked perfectly well in his workshop halfway across the country several days later. So that’s unlikely. Travelling distance shouldn’t have been a problem either, what with their flying contraptions and the fucking teleporting. Tony had seen Loki teleport himself as well as send several Chitauri to strategic points on the surrounding rooftops, meaning there’s really no excuse why they didn’t try and attack in more locations at the same time.

And while Loki did his best to attract the attention of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, even letting himself be caught, he never made any sort of move against the government agencies holding the real decisive power, never tried infiltrating or bringing down any of them and completely cripple the respective countries in the process. Not even a single attempt at using humanity’s weapons for his own benefit, he hadn't taken a single thing from that helicarrier or any other facilities apart from his sceptre and the Tesseract. Which hadn't been theirs to begin with and an integral part of why the Earth was attacked in the first place.

The whole thing was amateurish at best and most likely - and thankfully - not a representation of Loki at his finest. From the very beginning it seemed that Loki was toying with them and the Chitauri alike, trying to force a confrontation he knew the Avengers would win and which would end the war, although not in his favour, leading Tony to the conclusion that the trickster - another clue? - had been hoping to be defeated. Maybe even counting on it.

Which, of course, raises the question of _why?_

And that’s another thing. Tony read the reports Hill and Fury and all the others that were present when Loki appeared at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility made - illegally so, but hey, it’s not like Fury never lied to him, so there - and he saw what Loki had said about his reason for being on Earth.

_‘I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.’_

Burdened with. If that doesn’t sound like someone being reluctant about what they’re doing, well, then Tony will be damned. And Tony also saw how shitty Loki looked upon his arrival, the guy was a mess; frail, sickly, sweaty, shaky and looking haunted. Not the candidate he’d choose as the strategic leader for a world invasion.

The most important piece of the puzzle had, surprisingly enough, come from Clint, though. Everyone had expected him to be furious with Loki for his little mind-control stunt and he was, to some extent, but less so than they would have thought.

_‘It was... creepy, you know? Like we had this invisible connection. I could feel what he felt and what the others under that spell felt, too. But it was like he was one of us, just another poor fucker trapped there with us, not the guy in charge of everything. I know it sounds stupid, but there was someone... or something else there. In our heads. We weren’t alone. And sometimes it, whatever the fuck it was, would take him away. Would take his consciousness away and he’d just be sitting there, empty and vacant for minutes at a time before he came back to himself. And he’d always look worst after those meetings or whatever. And he was terrified, I could feel it. Terrified of whatever was out there talking to him. I think someone was giving him orders or something. Controlling him. It was... weird. Fucking weird.’_

Adding that little drunken speech of Clint’s to all the other things that seemed off about the invasion, coupled with the fact that, while stunningly gorgeous even back then, Loki’s eyes had definitely been a dull blue and not a shining emerald green like now and Tony’s fairly sure he knows some of what was going on;

Loki had been a pawn in a much bigger game, one the people of Earth had never been privy to.

Well, no one except Tony. Because yes, there was or maybe still is something out there, lurking in the vast nothingness of the void, waiting patiently for the opportune time to strike again. Tony’d been in the blackness for mere minutes and yet he still struggles with it, with the ugly, slimy feeling of having a foreign presence inside his head, making itself at home there and spreading.

_“Eh... hello?”_

Startled out of his musings by a sleep-rough voice, Tony has to blink a few times to collect himself. “Jane, how wonderful to hear your lovely voice.”

There’s a confused pause and then, _“Mr... Mr Stark? I don’t- how... what?”_

“Yes, excellent question! It came to my attention that you, for a while there, entertained an intimate relationship with our favourite God of Thunder. True or false?”

_“I, eh... yes. I mean, yes, that’s true. Why are you-“_

“Nice catch, girl! Anyway, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about his current whereabouts? There were some, eh, developments I think he’d be quite interested in.”

_“You want to talk to Thor?”_

“Well, yes, that would be ideal. Think you can help me out here?”

_“I can... I can go fetch him, if you’d like?”_

This time it’s Tony who’s rendered momentarily speechless before, “He’s there? Right now? With you? On Earth? In your house?”

A hesitant _“Yes?”_ and the rustling of fabric, then a door being opened and closed again, followed by a quieter _“Thor?”_ , obviously meant for the God apparently enjoying a sleep-over with Jane Foster in New Mexico.

The phone is set down then and all Tony can hear are two hushed voices before the receiver is picked up again with a bellowed, _“Friend Stark!”_

And Tony can’t help himself, he really can’t, because his day was weird and confusing and overall terrible, so he probably sounds a lot angrier than he actually is when he snaps, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

 _“My friend, I know not what-“_ Thor begins, sounding confused and hurt by the harsh greeting, but Tony quickly interrupts him, his patience having evaporated the second he realised Thor is actually _here_. The fucker!

“Mind telling me why some cranky Vikings came by this morning and left your half-dead brother in my penthouse?”

Which is when Thor drops the phone, by the sound of it. The succeeding crackling and peals of thunder eventually give way to Jane’s exasperated yelling and resigned huffing as she, again, picks up the discarded phone.

 _“Well, that’s my bedroom wall gone,”_ she sighs and somehow Tony gets the distinct feeling that he will have to call his own contractor come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My (in)significant other managed to get a bit of time off work and insists I spent some of that with them instead of in front of my laptop. Rude, right? So there will be fewer updates over the next two weeks, one every Sunday, I think. Which is still one per week, so I hope y'all are able to live with that. 
> 
> If you get bored, though, come visit me on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/).


	14. Blood is thicker than Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s that? A chapter that’s twice as long as the usual ones, you say? Really? How wonderful! 
> 
> Guys, I did something incredibly clever with the chapter title and I’m so proud. You all know how we use the saying ‘blood is thicker than water’ to state that family is more important than friends and whatnot, yeah? But that’s not what it means. Originally, the saying meant that the blood of the covenant, the literal blood spilled on, for example, the battlefield by soldiers forges stronger bonds than the water of the womb. So we actually got it backwards. BUT! But! No matter which way you look at it, it’s true for Thor. He loves his brother because he’s family, but once he finds out they’re not really related, he still loves him because they grew up and battled together. So it fits either way. I’m a fucking genius. Over and out.
> 
> Also, fair warning; neither Tony nor Thor have apparently ever heard of political correctness. Just saying.

**Chapter XIV - Blood is thicker than Water**

* * *

Thor is considerate enough to land outside on the balcony and wait until Tony has opened the door before he barges in, wet hair plastered to his face and eyes blazing wildly.

“Where is my brother?”

Right to the point, then.

“He’s here,” Tony says, holding up his hands to placate the almost frantic-looking thunderer. “Some guys dropped by earlier, talking about some slave shit, and left him here. They said they were going to kill him if I didn’t sign their stupid ass contract, so I did,” he adds reluctantly, feeling incredibly sheepish to be talking about this with the guy’s _brother_ , of all people. It’s more than a little weird.

“They wouldn’t go against the Allfather’s will,” Thor gasps, although he doesn’t sound very sure about it. “Where is he?”

“Just, hold on a moment, okay?” Tony tries, taking a step to the left when Thor takes one to the right, trying to walk around him. That earns him a frustrated growl, but well, Thor’s not the only frustrated one, so he’ll have to deal. “Wait a second, big guy. I have questions. A lot of them. I don’t know what the hell-“

“Friend Stark,” Thor interrupts, still obviously on edge but more in control now, it seems. He places his hands on Tony’s upper arms and squeezes, making the engineer wince and sag a bit. “I apologise on behalf of my people and for the trouble they have caused you. I will do my best to provide you with the answers you desire, but I must ask you to allow me a visit with my brother first. It has been a long time since I last laid eyes upon him and the circumstances were...” he trails off, expression pained and dark. “My friend, I am worried. Please, do me this favour and I promise to return it in kind.”

A man of Thor’s size and stature isn’t supposed to be able to pull off the kicked puppy look like that, Tony thinks in resignation, but here they are. Damn it.

“Fine,” he huffs and turns toward the hall, nodding for the God to follow. “But then we talk. Because I have a shitload of questions. Like, what are you even doing here? Why aren’t you back on Asgard, especially if you’re that worried about what’s happening with your brother?”

Thor heaves a heavy breath, briefly pressing his eyes shut to rub a trembling hand over his face. “Loki’s sentence was not to be served on Asgard. The decision was made for his own protection, one of his kind, he would not have been safe after his true heritage was revealed.”

It takes Tony a moment to recall that particular conversation from five years ago. “Yeah, I remember. You said he was adopted?”

“Oh, my friend,” Thor laughs brokenly. “If only matters were this straightforward, all our lives would be much happier and simpler for it.”

Tony winces sympathetically as they stop in front of the correct door. If Thor realises that Tony put his precious little brother in his own bedroom, he isn’t letting on. Which is just as well, since Tony has absolutely no desire to be kicked through a wall for wrong assumptions.

They step inside and Thor immediately rushes over to the bed, falling to his knees with a choked-off sob. “Oh, brother,” he whispers, reaching out and gently tucking some errand strands of hair back behind Loki’s ear before bending low to press a linger kiss to the sleeping man’s forehead. “What have they done to you?”

For a moment, Tony hovers uncertainly by the door, feeling like an intruder, like he isn’t supposed to witness this. But then Thor’s shoulders start shaking and seeing the God - the second one today, for crying out loud! - break down does something decidedly not good to Tony’s own composure. He walks closer, somehow ending up crouched next to Thor with what he hopes is a reassuring hand on the thunderer’s back, trying to keep it together as Thor weeps and desperately clutches at his brother’s limp form.

“This contraption,” Thor rasps after several long minutes, unashamedly wiping the tears from his cheeks and pointing at the IV pole. “It administers liquids for pain relief, yes?”

“Among other things, yeah,” Tony confirms and then, when the God quirks a questioning eyebrow, continues, “Medication to bring down his fever and battle the infection. Some stuff to keep him hydrated and at least a little nourished until he’s able to take care of that by himself again. And something that lets him stay asleep for the time being. We thought it’d be best, given the state he’s in and everything,” he shrugs uncomfortably and absently checks the needle in Loki’s hand.

Thor looks thoughtful for a moment before giving a single sharp nod of agreement. “A chance to converse with my brother would have been much appreciated, but I fear Loki might not have shared that sentiment.”

“Brothers, huh?” Tony asks in an attempt to lighten up the situation, relieved when Thor huffs out something that could almost be called a laugh. He stands and holds out his hand and the other man actually does laugh when he takes Tony up on his offer and nearly sends them both crashing to the floor due to his damned godly strength.

“Apologies, my friend,” Thor chuckles as he rights them both, clapping the engineer on the back hard enough to send him stumbling again.

“I need a whisky,” Tony decides and groans, cracking his joints and shaking out the limbs that fell asleep during their earlier kneeling. Middle age, ugh. “Come on, Point Break, you look like you could use something strong, too.”

“Thank you, Anthony Stark,” the God says, trailing after Tony and back out to the main area of the penthouse. “Not many would have welcomed Loki into their home, much less treated his wounds and offered him a safe place to rest.” He accepts the tumbler Tony’s holding out to him with a brief twitch of his lips and downs it in one go. “You must think the worst of my brother and rightly so, after the gruesome consequences his last visit to Midgard brought upon your city. But this,” the thunderer sighs, gesturing back toward the hall, his voice a mere whisper when he speaks again, “he does not deserve this.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Tony smiles, a brittle little thing, and tops up both their glasses. “So, how about you start from the beginning?”

And so Thor does.

***

Tony can’t do much more than blink dumbly at Thor, his mouth opening and closing without producing more than a faintly questioning sort of sound that has the God chuckling softly.

“This must all seem very strange to you,” he acknowledges and pours the engineer the last of the whisky. From the second bottle. Drinking with a God is, apparently, an expensive affair.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah,” Tony finally manages, shaking his head in disbelief and, he’ll admit it, shock. Also disgust and some more disbelief. That one is strong. “Fucking hell, man. So, to summarise; during your coronation to king of basically everything, Loki, as a way of interrupting and stopping exactly that from happening, led a couple of Frost Giants into your super secret vault. Which is treason, if I understood that correctly. He then persuaded you to attack whatever-heim in retaliation, causing the end of a thousand-year-long peace and your banishment to Earth. While in Frost Giant land, he discovered that he isn’t actually your brother or even of the same race as you and the rest of your family and went a little crazy over having been lied to for the entirety of his life. Your dad got sick and Loki, as the only remaining prince at the time, took over and tried to prevent you from coming home by sending some fire-breathing robot after you. Which he did in order to stay in charge and have time to prove himself as a true son of Asgard by killing his birthfather in a weird-ass coup involving another helping of treason and the near-genocide of his people. And then he vamoosed by jumping off your fancy intergalactic-travel bridge.”

“My brother was desperate enough to make an attempt on his own life, your mockery is insulting and entirely inappropriate,” Thor warns and Tony immediately tries to backpedal.

“I-“ he begins before cutting himself off. _‘I had no idea that’s what you meant, I didn’t know Gods could actually kill themselves,’_ sounds incredibly stupid, so he mumbles an apology and waves a hand for the other man to go on, feeling properly humiliated and deserving every bit of it.

Thor flexes his muscles, his expression fiercely protective and practically challenging Tony to find fault with his explanation of things or not to take Loki’s suffering seriously. “But yes, you are correct.”

“That’s seriously fucked up,” the engineer blurts and immediately regrets it when the statement earns him a narrow-eyed glare. “Sorry, buddy, but really. I’m speechless here. Do you have any idea how often that happens? The answer is never. It doesn’t happen. You achieved the impossible. Pepper and Coulson will be so pleased.”

“Your reaction does not surprise me,” the thunderer admits after a moment and leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “My Jane was similarly shaken when I first told her about these events. She has since come to see what occurred at the time from a new perspective and, in turn, helped me understand certain things I previously did not even concern myself with.”

Tony inclines his head, considering. Thor continues before he can fully sort out the jumbled-up mess of new information in his head, though.

“You must understand, Friend Stark, that no Æsir - man, woman or child - would hesitate to kill a Jotun on sight or die in the attempt to do so. The conflict between our peoples has been going on for longer than even the Allfather is able to recall. Killing a Jotun is not seen as an offense, the warriors who have done so in the past are celebrated as heroes to this day. The animosity between us runs too deep, the peace we shared before my overhasty journey to Jotunheim had been enforced by my father and disliked by our people and the Jötnar alike.” 

“Which is why all you got for shattering that peace and restarting a war was a light slap on the wrist,” Tony muses and the God nods, serious and rueful.

“Aye. Few people back home saw fault in what I did, most were proud and silently disapproving of the Allfather’s vain attempt at convincing Laufey to excuse my actions as those of a spoilt, inexperienced prince. Everyone was eager for battle and the chance to prove themselves against our oldest enemies yet again. Therefore, the consequences were not as severe as they could have been, my banishment more an opportunity to learn and better myself than actual punishment.”

Thor pauses, shadows passing over his face, and Tony stays quiet, for once recognising that there’s a need for silence so the thunderer can get his next words out ready.

“I was arrogant and vain, greedy and stupid. No one ever gave me a reason to doubt myself and even if they had, I am ashamed to say that I would have paid them no mind. I was not ready to be a king, not a good and just one the people deserved, and Loki was the only one to see my shortcomings and take action.” At that, he looks up at Tony with an expression filled and overflowing with pure, raw guilt. “I won’t defend my brother and claim that he chose an appropriate way to show all of Asgard that the time for me to become king was not right or that what he did was not at least partially fuelled by jealousy. But neither am I able to tell you that Loki’s jealousy was not justified.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that he wasn’t the favourite son,” Tony guesses. He’s starting to get the bigger picture; the sibling rivalry, Thor shining and being encouraged by the whole of Asgard while Loki tried and failed, time and again, to keep up with his golden brother, centuries of feeling inferior and worthless, of accumulated resentment and anger. That’s something Tony understands, the never being good enough bit. Howard had made that more than clear in the few short years they’d had together.

“I could and would not see it at the time, but my brother and I were never treated equally,” Thor continues sadly and slouches a bit more in his seat, looking deflated. “Had Loki not discovered his true heritage on Jotunheim, we would have returned home and stuck together against our father’s anger like we had so many times before. He would have given us a stern talking to and the whole unfortunate incident would have quickly become known as another of the many misadventures of the two princes.”

“There were a lot of those, yeah?” Tony grins and Thor mimics the gesture, eyes twinkling mischievously for a second before both men sober again. Tony runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Look, I can accept that declaring war is something you guys apparently do for sports and that your brother had a major freak-out about that adoption business, but he tried to kill you and nearly blew up a whole fucking planet. Which, no offense, is kind of an extreme reaction.”

The thunderer is quick to shake his head, though. “Loki would have stopped the Destroyer in time,“ he insists, his sternly convinced voice leaving absolutely no room for arguments. “The Jötnar are the monsters in all of Asgard’s tales; savage beasts stealing children away from their parents, animals ravaging the lands, raping and devouring their enemies and own people alike without a hint of compassion or mercy. They are what we learn to fear and hate from early on through hardened believes that have been festering for generations. Imagine being taught the knowledge of where to point all your hatred and whom to blame for all the evil in the world, only to find that place and those people are where your origins lie, that you are the embodiment of what you were raised to despise, of everything twisted, wicked and wrong. I dare say that my brother’s reaction was understandable from our people’s point of view.”

It does make a perverse sort of sense, Tony has to admit to himself. He thinks of Nazi Germany, a country run down to the ground and people desperate enough to put the blame for all their misery on a completely innocent group of people, of millions murdered in blind belief and of the deep-running hostility still wreaking havoc in some disturbed minds over seventy years later. Fucking Hydra. And it’s not as if that had been the last time humanity was idiotic enough to go to war against each other over something that, in the end and the grand scheme of things, turned out to be utterly trivial; there’s the Arab-Israeli conflict still going strong, the last troops were only just pulled out of the Afghan region and someone’s always fighting somewhere down in Africa.

Tony almost laughs picturing the reaction of a leading party of any of those conflicts suddenly figuring out they belonged to the opposite side all along. There’s no question if they'd take the opportunity to completely eradicate their enemy should it presented itself. The only real difference discernible between that potential person and Loki is that they wouldn’t actually destroy the whole goddamned world because they, too, have to live on it. Then again, some people probably wouldn’t give a shit about that either and blow them all to kingdom come if it meant they’d achieve what they call victory.

“His reasons to not excuse my brother’s misdoings,” Thor interrupts Tony’s thoughts after a while. “But I like to think they do explain them to a certain extent.”

The God frowns, pondering over something, so Tony gets up to grab a couple of beers. It’s nearly dawn, they already emptied two bottles of booze that cost more than the average American’s monthly income and Tony is slowly but steadily starting to not only understand but also emphasise with an obviously deeply disturbed madman - he’s allowed a nice buzz, fuck off.

Thor accepts his bottle with a tired smile and a slight tilt of his head. “Jane has made me aware of this, since my people do not take such matters seriously. We do not have a concept of what you call ‘mental illnesses’ in Asgard, not being in full control of one’s state of mind is considered a weakness.”

“Yeah, that’s not really how it works, bud,” Tony grimaces with a thought of his own bathroom cabinet full to the brink with anti-anxiety meds and mood stabilisers. “Like, not at all.”

“That is what I have come to learn as well,” Thor agrees eagerly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “And now that my brother is here on Midgard, I am confident that we can find one of your special healers to aid him with repairing his mind.”

“Yes, why is he here?” Tony asks, choosing to ignore the idea of trying to convince the former God of Chaos and Mischief to visit a shrink. “Just what the fuck happened after you took him back to Asgard?”

The thunderer’s face crumples, all previous enthusiasm and hope wiped away. Which kind of makes Tony want to chin himself, but it’s a valid question, so.

“I cannot tell you much,” Thor sighs eventually, staring down at his feet and fiddling with the cap of his bottle. “I was not allowed to attend the trial, the Council believed me biased and a potential disturbance. Given my brother’s royal background, the usual leeway given to people committing crimes in the name of ethnic cleansing and the fact that my brother had been tortured and magically bound to another’s will-“

“Aha!” Tony exclaims with way too much excitement for their current topic of conversation, then cringes immediately at his own bluntness and shoots Thor an apologetic smile. “So he was under some kind of spell? That wasn’t really him leading the invasion and mucking it up so spectacularly?” Thor nods his affirmation, causing Tony to grin victoriously. “I fucking knew it!”

“His mind was not his own and I foolishly thought the Council would take this into consideration, despite their general disregard for such matters.” The fury in the God’s eyes along with his clenched and shaking fists make it painfully clear that didn’t happen. “Then the whispers of Loki’s true nature became more than mere rumours, by whose traitorous tongue I do not know, and the people demanded the removal of the Frost Giant impersonating an Æsir prince. They would not accept Loki being treated as one of their own, protested that the laws of Asgard should not apply to their enemy. The Council unanimously voted to have my brother executed and it was only our father’s intervention that prevented the sentence from being made final. Loki was gifted to the king of one of Alfheim’s colonies to ensure his survival and protect him from the wrath of our own people. I was forbidden from following him to the Light Elves’ realm and encouraged to spend some time away from Asgard after a rather unfortunate incident leading to the destruction of most of the royal palace.”

Tony is kind of glad that JARVIS’ disembodied voice interrupts them, nearly startling Thor into dropping his beer, because for the second time in about as many hours, he has absolutely no idea what to say, to think or how to react.

_“Sir, Miss Ana has woken up and appears to be wary of my attempts at conversation,”_ he states and then adds a cheery, _“Good morning, Mr Odinson.”_

Thor stares in bewilderment, trying to figure out who’s talking to him while Tony jumps up to get the girl before he realises that-

“Hey, Thor. Would you like to meet your niece?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I guess you noticed that I can't write Thor. Like, at all. I'm not a native speaker, all right? DON'T JUDGE ME! My excuse is that Thor spent most of the last five years on Earth and has lost some of his fancy words. Verily, my lovelies. Sorry. (Not.)


	15. Fashion and Family Relations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, eh. I’m back, yay! 
> 
> Those of you who follow me on tumblr already know that real life decided to fuck me over for a while there the last two weeks, meaning I didn’t really have the time/energy to do much writing. And then, once I was better, I made the wise decision to go out and get completely wasted, resulting in another few days of being unable to do much more than roll around in bed and moan. And not in the fun way, believe me. 
> 
> Anyway, things should go back to normal (huh, yeah right, _normal_ ) now with at least one update a week. Maybe even two. Unless I do some other stupid crap. Which is likely. Let’s keep our fingers crossed, shall we?

**Chapter XV - Fashion and Family Relations**

* * *

The gobsmacked expression on Thor’s face, all slack-jawed and kind of frozen mid-word, would be hilarious if the situation were less serious. And it’s an indication as to just how serious the situation is when even Tony realises its seriousness and manages to refrain from making some dumb joke. Meaning it’s very serious.

“Surprise?” he offers and yeah, so much for not being immature about this. “Well. I, eh, think I could probably have put that a little more elegantly. Eased you into it instead of, you know, hit you over the head with it. But that’s me, no of brain-to-mouth filter at all, blurting random shit without thinking first. It’s not all bad, though, there was this one girl back in middle school who was really into-“

“I have a niece?” the thunderer interrupts, good riddance, and for a moment Tony thinks he’s going to cry before he breaks out his thousand watt smile, positively beaming at the engineer in unmistakable excitement. “A niece, truly?”

“Yup,” Tony nods and can’t help but grin back. Thor looks so stupidly happy, it’s contagious. “Wanna meet her?”

Which Thor does, of course. He obediently sits down and waits on the sofa while Tony goes to fetch Ana. His steps falter and become slower halfway down the hall, however, when he remembers that there’s a good chance the girl will be far from pleased to see him. She’s in a strange place, surrounded by strange people and now Tony’s about to introduce her to the one person who’s more lacking in restraint and discretion than himself. This whole thing could blow up right in their faces and send Ana back to crying and hiding in the blink of an eye.

But she’s Thor’s niece, his family, and Tony already promised to acquaint them. And hey, it’ll probably even be good for Ana to have someone who’s so enthusiastic about getting to know her in her life, someone who - most likely, going by their earlier conversation about Loki and his heritage without any hint of the normal Æsir disgust - won’t judge her for her origins and simply love the crap out of her.

The thought of which nearly has Tony walking into one of the stupid, ugly-ass potted plants some idiot, possibly him, decided on lining up along the walls. He told Thor he had a niece, but nothing more specific. Does the God even know about his brother’s unique child-baring ability? And is it unique or just more of an Æsir thing that’s not really all that weird up in Magic Fairyland? What if Thor assumed his brother knocked up some random floozy and is going to have a meltdown when Tony has to explain to him the circumstances of his niece’s conception?

Fuck. This was a spectacularly bad idea. But here goes nothing, Tony thinks with a sigh and, after a couple of steadying breaths, pushes open the door to the guest room. Ana lifts her head at the sound, yawns and blinks up at him when he steps inside and perches on the edge of the bed. So far so good.

“Good morning, starshine,” Tony whispers, brushing a hand through her tousled hair, and Ana’s whole face lights up, nose wrinkling endearingly and big doe eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sleep well?”

In lieu of an answer, the girl rolls over and presses her face against Tony’s thigh, arching into his touch like a particularly lazy, toddler-shaped cat.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Tony chuckles, quickly checking that the bandages are still in place before lifting her into his arms and getting back up. Ana hums and snuggles closer, tucking her face into his neck, and Tony instinctively kisses the top of her head. “So, what are we wearing today?” he wants to know and turns them both toward the closet.

Ana chooses a dress, black with cute little skulls all over it, and a pair of white, woolly tights. They have a brief discussion - meaning Tony talks and Ana grunts and glares - about shoes, Tony trying to convince her that last night’s Chuck’s are perfectly fine while Ana insists on the neon pink Dr. Martens which the engineer hates simply for being neon pink. Because _neon pink_ , really?

But once the girl is dressed, Tony has to admit the outfit does look good. If he ever gets tired of that whole saving the world business, he’s definitely going to do some shit with clothes. Hell, maybe all those times getting yelled at by Howard for playing dress-up with his dolls ‘like a damned girl’ when he was a kid will actually come in handy one day. Those stupid gender-specific toys and his stupid traditional father, always scared that reading and Barbies and sitting with his mother watching her do her makeup would turn Tony into ‘one of them queers’.

Sometimes he wishes he’d figured out that he likes ladies _and_ dudes before his old man went and kicked the bucket. Just imagining Howard’s face now, all red and flustered after catching his son sneaking another boy instead of a girl out of his bedroom in the middle of the night, is enough to make Tony smirk to himself. Yeah, that would’ve been fun.

“All right,” he goes on and claps his hands together, shaking off the always unsettling memories of his old man. “Anything else?”

Ana cocks her head, considering for a few seconds, then dives into one of the still unpacked bags and produces a pack containing several hairbows, holding them out to Tony with an expectant look. JARVIS, bless him, really did think of everything, it seems.

“So, eh, listen,” Tony coughs awkwardly, inspecting the accessories because they’re very important to complete the theme they’ve got going here, not because he’s afraid to watch the girl’s face in case she takes badly to the news he’s about to deliver. Not at all. He selects a bow - pink, yeah, but they already went with the boots, so fuck it, it fits - and pulls back two strands of Ana’s hair from either side of her head, fixing them in place in the back. Loki, vain bastard he definitely is, will probably smite him for how terrible it ends up looking, but the girl appears to be satisfied, so whatever. “There’s someone waiting out in the main area who’s pretty eager to meet you.”

Ana frowns, though she does reach out in a silent plea to be picked up again, so Tony can’t have fucked it up entirely.

“He’s big and loud, but really just a giant teddy bear,” he promises, settling her on his hip before making his way back out into the hall. “From what I gathered, your whole family is pretty screwed up, just saying, so I’m not sure if I’ll make it better or worse if I mention he’s part of it, but here goes; did your daddy, by any chance, ever tell you about your uncle Thor?”

That thankfully only elicits a small, tentative smile and a shy nod from the girl instead of any of the much more complicated reactions Tony envisaged.

Thor, who apparently got tired of waiting, is pacing nervously, head snapping up when he hears Tony and Ana approach. With three long strides he’s right in front of them, peering down at the girl and completely ignoring Tony which, ouch, not good for the ego.

“Look at you,” the thunderer breathes and makes to touch her cheek, only to have Ana flinch away from him and cling a bit tighter to Tony who may or may not jump about a mile into the air when a tiny green flame appears in the God’s palm. Which he offers to Ana. And which Ana takes, closing her fist around it and squeezing until the only trace of it left is a faint shimmer surrounding her arm.

Right. What the hell?

“What the hell was that?” Tony demands, staring at the fading light in wonder and not a small amount of scientific curiosity. “Did you just make magic green fire?”

That prompts a hearty laugh out of Thor. “It is little more than what you mortals would call a party trick,” he explains, holding both his hands out again and this time, Ana begins to squirm in Tony’s grasp and lets her uncle pull her into his arms and cradle her close against his chest. “Loki taught it to me long ago and I hoped-“ he cuts off, casting a helping glance from the girl to the engineer.

“Ana,” Tony provides. “Analía.”

“That Analía,“ he continues, carefully smoothing one of his giant paws over her back, “would recognise her maternal magic.”

Ah. That means Thor knows, Tony figures and when he looks up at the thunderer’s face, his conflicted expression confirms that suspicion. “How-“

“All I know for certain is that some Jotunn males are able to carry and bear children,” Thor shrugs, a little helplessly. “And since my brother’s hair was not cut short as is customary for the workforce slaves...”

Yeah, better trail off there. Tony isn’t sure how much Ana knows about her father or, well, her _other_ father, but Tony is most certainly not going to open that particular can of worms. A tilt of his head in Thor’s direction and an answering twitch of the God’s lips is all that’s needed to make it clear that neither man wants to discuss this any further right now.

“But, eh, aren’t those supposed to block magic?” Tony asks, pointing at the bracelet-like thingies around Ana’s ankles. “Loki’s been, _you know_ , longer than she’s even alive. How does she know his magic?”

With a frown, Thor shifts the girl and runs a finger over the finely plaited metal. “Indeed,” he confirms, but then gives another shrug. “I imagine those were a recent addition. The Elves are people of magic, they would have little use of servants without access to it.”

Tony huffs, grudgingly accepting the truth behind the implication that some godly assholes thought him too weak to manage this Loki issue without restraints, while Thor’s attention shifts back to his niece.

And then the infuriating asshole switches languages, although Tony doesn’t believe he did it on purpose, more out of a need for something familiar and comforting in this freakin’ clusterfuck of a situation. Still, all he understands now are Ana’s and Loki’s names and Tony isn’t a fan of being left out. And fine, maybe there’s a tiny - enormous - part of him that’s screaming in jealous possessiveness, pushing him to yank the girl out of Thor’s arms and whack the God over the head for good measure.

The only reason he doesn’t succumb to that urge, apart from the fact that Thor could probably incapacitate him without even setting the girl down, is that Ana is laughing, characteristically silent but clearly enjoying being held over the thunderer’s head and twirled around. She does begin to protest, though, once Thor places a big, wet, smooching kiss on her forehead and she gets a face full of scratchy beard. Thor merely chuckles at her grimaces and flops back down on the couch to continue defying every picture humanity ever had of vicious Viking warriors by cooing and making silly faces at a three-year-old, leaving Tony to chuckle and place a call down to reception to order some breakfast for the three of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go before Loki’s big comeback! There will be more of Thor doting on Ana, Tony attending a meeting with Ana and Ana having her first run-in with some paparazzi. Good times all around.
> 
> Also, my brother used to sit with my mum while she was doing her hair and makeup when he was little and later, when my sister and I entered those beautifully dramatic teenage years, he did the same with us. Somewhere along the lines he started helping out and now, if I have to get ready at my parents’ house, I have my very own, personal stylist. Or, you know, a gruff, six-foot-five football (soccer) player commenting on my every move. 
> 
> “Are you _trying_ to poke your eye out with that?”
> 
> “You wanna wear _that_ eye shadow with _those_ shoes? _Really?_ ”
> 
> “No, no, _no!_ Use the other brush, the one with- oh, for fuck’s sake, give me that, you complete and utter imbecile!” 
> 
> Ah. Siblings.


	16. Set the World on Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this update I’m now officially unable to keep my chapters all about the same lenght. So, eh, screw it. I’ll just roll with whatever happens from now on *shrugs*

**Chapter XVI - Set the World on Fire**

* * *

Watching Thor interact with Ana is nothing short of a revelation and Tony is completely enraptured by it. Not that he’d ever use that word in connection with himself anywhere outside of his own head, but still. They’re a sight to behold, the two of them, making Tony’s heart swell in his chest despite the still present, ugly and entirely inappropriate flickers of jealousy.

Breakfast is slightly awkward, what with Thor apparently being unable and even more unwilling to set Ana down for even just a moment, opting to let her sit in his lap and clumsily reaching around and bending over her instead. He seems to be a natural, though, cutting her pancakes and bacon - which she _does_ like, much to Tony’s smug delight - and doing that ‘swiping stray food away from your kid’s face with your thumb and then actually eating it yourself’ thing parents do, all without a single hitch in their conversation.

“So,” Tony summarises their during-meal-discussion, taking a sip of his coffee, “you can’t get them off?”

“I am afraid not,” Thor smiles tightly and gives a minute shake of his head, his expression softening again when he looks down at Ana who has decided to pick the blueberries out of the yoghurt in order to feed them to her uncle. “They were sealed with magic, meaning they can only be removed by the person who enchanted them.”

Tony pulls a face at that, tipping back his stool with a resigned huff. “Well, shit. But, eh, technically both Ana and Loki are my property, yeah?” he asks and quickly holds up a placating hand when Thor shoots him an angry glare. “I know, I know. I don’t like it either, trust me. But my point is, the two of them belong to me, at least according to that ridiculous contract, so shouldn’t I be allowed to get rid of those damned shackles if I want to?”

“You would have to plead your case to the Allfather-“ Thor begins, only to be interrupted by Tony groaning and bending forward to thump his head against the cool surface of the bar.

Great. Awesome. Like _that_ is going to happen. Just pop ‘round to Asgard, go for a stroll in the royal palace and ask Odin ‘thinks himself ruler of everything’ Allfather to pretty please take pity on the son he abandoned into slavery. No problem. Piece of cake.

It’s the insistent tugging on the collar of his shirt that has Tony lift his head back up and find Ana, her face pulled into a concernedly confused grimace, frowning down at him. Which is not a look he likes on her, so he reaches over the bar and slides a hand into her hair, gently rubbing his fingers over her head.

“Everything’s fine, puppy, don’t worry,” Tony tries and fails, apparently, if the entirely unimpressed stare the girl is levelling at him is anything to go by. “Everything will be fine. I promise,” he amends, but Ana can’t be swayed, her bright green eyes going misty with ready-to-spill tears.

And fuck, if that doesn’t make Tony’s throat go tight with a whole bunch of not so pleasant feelings. Two crying incidents in as many days isn’t really what he was aiming for here, but the wobbling lower lip isn’t boding well for him at the moment.

“C’mere,” Tony soothes, finding himself with an armful of distraught toddler the instant Thor has hefted her close enough for Ana to make a grab for him. There’s a booted foot pressing into his kidney and he’s pretty sure a yoghurt-smeared hand is discretely being wiped in his hair, all of which is drowned out by the quiet sniffles muffled against his neck. “Hey, none of that. It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m not upset anymore, I’m all right.”

Ana merely grunts at that, a noise which clearly conveys that she doesn’t even begin to believe him, and wipes her runny nose on Tony’s shoulder.

“You know, I’m impressed that you not only see through my bullshit, but also manage to call me a liar without actually saying a single word,” Tony chuckles, rubbing his cheek across the girl’s forehead and smiling when his attempt to make her relax is successful. “I’m totally screwed once you do start talking, aren’t I?”

“She has not been talking to you either?” Thor buts in then, his face stricken with worry and something gentler that makes Tony squirm uncomfortably when it’s aimed at him and the way he practically cradles the girl against himself.

“Nope. Not to anyone,” he shrugs, willing the thunderer to understand and drop that particular topic for now. Ana will use her words when she feels safe and welcome and is good and ready. Tony isn’t going to pressure her and Thor bringing attention to the fact that she should be speaking at her age certainly won’t help speed things along. No one appreciates having their flaws and insecurities pointed out.

Being much more astute than anyone would have given him credit for upon first meeting him five years ago, Thor simply nods and starts digging into Ana’s abandoned breakfast. The space between them is soon filled with light chatter about what the God’s been up to in New Mexico - knocking up Jane, as it turns out, the sly dog - and Tony’s newest business ventures into the humanitarian sector.

It’s almost peaceful until it isn’t anymore when JARVIS announces Bruce’s arrival and Thor is out of his seat and has the poor guy in a crushing embrace before he even properly stepped out of the elevator. Tony hears what sounds suspiciously like “Thank you for saving my brother’s life.” and causes the doctor to blush beet red, mumbling an awkward reply into the God’s chest.

Ana perks up considerably when Bruce walks up to them with a stack of books for her, unbothered by his shy confession that they’re hand-me-downs from Betty’s nephews, and Tony is delegated to read ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ while she has her bandages changed and Thor observes, bemused by the concept of Dr. Seuss’ literature.

When Bruce leaves for his lectures shortly after, Thor volunteers to accompany him downstairs, ready to depart as well.

“I must seek audience with my father,” he explains unnecessarily, clapping Tony on the shoulder and cupping Ana’s face with his free hand. “I shall return as soon as possible, hopefully with good news concerning my brother’s... situation.”

It’s a long shot, having Thor try and reason with his estranged father after spending the last five years on Earth in mostly self-imposed exile, but it’s also all they’ve got right now. Tony is under no illusions that the thunderer will come back victorious and proclaim Loki and Ana free people, but he’s itching for some more information on just what the fuck is going on. Or, you know, why _he_ was chosen for the task of unwilling slave master. Yeah, that one he’d really like to get answered.

“Take care of my family for me, Anthony Stark,” Thor says, a threat as much as a plea, and with a lingering kiss to the top of Ana’s head he’s gone, the doors sliding shut behind him and Bruce and leaving Tony oddly unsettled all of a sudden.

Which, of course, is when JARVIS decides to speak up. _“Sir, you have a meeting with the board scheduled to start in one hour. Traffic is typical for a Monday morning, but I would advise against the convertible. There is a sixty-three percent chance of rain later in the day.”_

***

Tony is quick to realise that he can’t bring anyone else into this whole mess, either for fear of them exposing Loki and Ana or because it wouldn’t be fair to drag them down with him if all this goes south.

Meaning he’ll have to take Ana with him since Bruce is busy teaching and Thor is probably out of cell phone range, leaving him with exactly no one who knows the whole truth and is trustworthy enough to play babysitter.

So he’s going to do what he always does when he’s out of his depth; put on his charming public persona, smile so bright someone’s bound to go blind and feed everyone some nice and believable half truths.

And call Happy.

“You, car, here in twenty,” he barks instead of a greeting, then adds, after a speculative glance at the girl reading on the couch, “And bring one of those kiddie car seat thingies.”

There’s a pointed pause, followed by the resigned sigh of a long-term employee and friend. _“Gotcha, boss.”_

Satisfied, Tony closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath. “JARVIS, you keep your eyes on Loki. Call me the moment anything changes, do you hear me?”

_“There is no reason for concern, sir,”_ the AI replies smoothly in what Tony suspects is supposed to be a calming tone but has the exact opposite effect at the moment. _“Doctor Banner made sure our guest is provided for and comfortable. He remains heavily sedated and-“_

“Just do it, J, okay?” Tony snaps, pursing his lips when all he gets in answer is a clipped _“Certainly, sir.”_ as an indication that he has pissed off the person - machine, whatever - more or less running his life. Which is just peachy.

He downs the rest of his now lukewarm coffee and instructs Ana to go find a coat and hat for their outing, unspeakably glad when she does as told without question.

A three-hour meeting with stuffy board members and a tiny alien girl. He can do that. Probably. Maybe.

_Fuck._

***

“Mr Stark?”

“Huh?” Tony’s head snaps up and yeah, going by the annoyed glares directed at him, this is not the first time his name has been called.

“Mr Stark,” the guy with the disapproving father expression coughs, “this is highly unprofessional.”

Looking back down at the girl in his lap and completely ignoring the room of bristling business people, Tony arches a questioning eyebrow. “You okay slicing fruit without me for a while?” he asks, earning himself an absent hum as Ana picks the StarkPad up from the table and settles back against his chest.

It’s a monumental effort to drag his mind away from the game and his issues at home to focus on the papers in front of him and Tony can’t help the waspish “More or less unprofessional than that one time I showed up drunk and only half-dressed with a Moulin Rouge dancer in tow?” from slipping out.

He’s going to regret that once it gets back to Pepper and he has to listen to her angry yelling, but right now it’s totally worth it for the shocked gasps and the one woman dropping her water bottle.

***

They’re leaving Starbucks, well stocked with liquid energy and sticky pastries, when Tony spots the first one just across the street from them, the flash of his camera making Ana squint her eyes and scowl.

“Fucking vultures,” Tony hisses out between clenched teeth, readjusting the girl on his hip and automatically pulling his coat around her as much as possible in an attempt to shelter her from the now quickly gathering group of paparazzi.

It’s not like he hadn’t expected to be followed by the press, he’s Tony Stark for God’s sake, but after leaving the meeting and enjoying two uninterrupted hours of shopping he’d made the mistake of getting his hopes up that he’ll escape the ever-present public eye for once.

“Ignore them and eat your Cinnamon Roll, puppy,” he whispers in answer to Ana’s wondering glance up at him, smoothing his free hand over her back and unconsciously pulling her a little closer against himself before meeting the crowd with his most charming grin and a cheerful, “Good afternoon!”

The screams of “Mr Stark!” and “Over here!” and “Just one picture, please!” are instantaneous, causing Ana to sneer at the nearest paparazzi in surprise, effectively bringing everyone around them to focus their attention on her.

Well. Shit.

“Mr Stark, what did we miss?” teases a reporter for some smallish paper Tony only remembers for her slightly too revealing outfits - hey, he’s only a man - and bright red hair, nodding her head at Ana who is back to munching on her snack, watching the proceedings with hesitant interest.

“Well,” Tony begins with an innocent little shrug absolutely no one is going to buy, “I either pulled a Madonna and sneakily adopted myself a child, went and found a little alien companion or agreed to babysit for a sick friend. Take your pick.”

That earns him a few chuckles and a moment to brace himself for how majorly pissed off his PR department is going to be for not warning them about any of this.

He gives the people watching another wave, not acknowledging the shouted questions and requests to clarify, and makes to turn when some grabs him by the collar, precariously close to Ana’s face looking back over his shoulder.

Everything after that happens incredibly fast; the first camera sizzles for just a moment before going up in flames and being dropped by its startled owner, soon followed by the equipment of all the other news teams in the vicinity falling victim to the same fate.

The ensuing commotion is enough cover for Tony to pull Ana’s glowing hand out of sight, slip away and sprint around the corner to where Happy’s waiting with the car, slipping into the backseat with an order to hurry up and drive.

“What the hell?” he demands once they’re moving, his voice an embarrassing shriek, but immediately falters at the sheer terror written all over the girl’s face, curling a protective arm around her shaking body instead. “Hey, hush. You’re okay, sweetheart, no harm done. Well. Not really. Holy shit.”

It takes him the better part of the journey back to the tower and quiet, gently whispered reassurances to get Ana to calm down enough to be able to tilt her head up and not have her whine and try to hide her face away again.

“Did you just pull a Harry Potter on a bunch of paparazzi?” he asks, because it’s fairly clear she didn’t mean to actually burn anything down, going by the surprise still visibly written all over her face. “Not that I’m allowed to openly condone such behaviour, but that was the most efficient and badass way to get out of talking to the press I’ve seen in a while.”

And then Tony laughs and finds himself unable to stop.

Tony laughs and somewhere along the way, Ana joins in with her quiet chuckles, prompting him to squish her face between his hands and pepper it with kisses until she’s giggling uncontrollably and he has to let go to wipe the mirthful tears out of his eyes.

There’s an alien God and former world-invader lying unconscious in his bed, the three year old girl in his arms has the ability to magically ignite stuff and Tony hasn’t felt this _alive_ in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who haven’t read Harry Potter (SHAME ON YOU!); before Harry finds out he’s a wizard, there are several incidents where he accidentally uses his magic, most often when he’s angry or upset. Which is what Tony’s talking about here. 
> 
> Also, finally! Loki will be back in the next chapter which is going to start with a little section from our favourite trickster’s point of view. Let’s all hope that turns out less disastrous than I’m fearing right now...


	17. Back among the Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE CHAPTER, BITCHES! 
> 
> I’m on a roll, so here’s an early chapter for you. And Loki’s back! Wooooo! 
> 
> Anyway. For those of you wondering how Ana was able to use magic in the last chapter despite wearing the blockers; you’ll see. Ah. This is my favourite thing, telling you to be patient. Because I’m actually the least patient person in the universe myself. So making you wait brings me orgasmic joy. Well. Not _really._ But close enough.
> 
> Also, as promised, the first half or so of the chapter is from Loki’s POV. This was an experiment I wanted to try, so please tell me what you think, if you believe I captured him well enough etcetera. I’m really not sure about it, kind of like I wasn’t sure about Thor. Though Loki was easier somehow. What does it say about me that I enjoyed writing the tortured thoughts of a disturbed man more than the sunny Thor? Do I even want to know? 
> 
> Go, read now. I’m done with my stupid notes for the moment.

**Chapter XVII - Back among the Living**

* * *

Regaining consciousness is comparable to being dragged through the fiery depths of Muspelheim, sleep clinging to and clawing at Loki in a desperate attempt to pull him under once more. A painfully constricting heaviness is pressing down on him, reluctant to let him reach full wakefulness and making it nigh impossible not to alert his captors to his changed status by gasping for much needed air.

With strength drawn from he knows not where, Loki endeavours to keep his breathing steady and even, hoping to fool whoever might be lurking near for a little while longer. Although he cannot hear or smell anyone close, Loki knows not to trust the illusion of safety, not anymore, not after being burned one time too many.

Only after several long moments of silence does he dare to reach out with his senses, searching, seeking. The room he has been deposited in appears to be devoid of any other life and he experiences a momentary surge of dread before he feels her; Ana is sleeping, dreaming, peaceful.

Some of the tension leaves Loki’s shoulders at that. He moves on to the only other presence within his currently limited range, latching on to it for examination. Anthony Stark, the Man of Iron. The memories of his arrival at his new owner’s residence are hazy at best, though he remembers unusual kindness and a distinctive lack of harsh words and punishing hands. So far, at least.

He is exhausted down to his very core, making it frustratingly difficult to read someone as unfamiliar as his current master, and is merely able to grasp broken pieces and brief glimpses of the man’s state of mind. There is tiredness, which is to be expected should it be morning as Loki suspects, hunger, concern and worry as well as anticipation.

Forcing his attention away from the confusing disarray of emotions radiating off his master and onto himself, Loki is surprised and instantly suspicious to find his limbs free of restraints and the collar gone from around his neck. He is not in the servant quarters, he realises as his fingers curl into silken sheets and he becomes aware of the soft bedding beneath him.

The implications of his position leave Loki numb, he anticipated no different. His purpose is to bring pleasure and, on rare occasions, companionship. It has been for so long that he ceased counting first the days, then the weeks and months and, in the end, the years.

A minute shift reveals not only a feathery pillow under his head and blankets carefully tucked around him, but also garments covering the lower half of his body. Loki’s brows draw together in mild confusion and he stretches, finding himself aching far less than when he first arrived on Midgard which only leaves the conclusion that he was not used during his forced sleep. The concept of why his master would make him pliant if not for sexual reasons completely escapes him, though he won’t deny that he’s glad about the respite, however long it might last.

He does not get the opportunity to ponder this any further, startled into a standing position that has him swaying and dizzy by a jaunty, _“Good morning, sir.”_

There is no one in sight and Loki stumbles backwards until his back hits a wall, making him wince and his knees wobble dangerously. He flickers his eyes around the room, considering invisibility spells and illusions, when the voice speaks up again.

 _“Apologies, sir. Let me introduce myself,”_ it begins, coming out of nowhere and from all around him at the same time. _“My name is JARVIS, I am the artificial intelligence, the computer programme if you will, supervising all of Mr Stark’s properties, residences and businesses.”_

Loki gives a tentative nod, unsure if he is allowed to address this JARVIS directly. He recognises some of the terms, enough to work out that the voice belongs to some sort of mechanical servant, not an actual person, although he cannot begin to fathom how exactly it can hear or see him.

 _“It is Thursday morning, you have been under sedation for the better part of five days in order to allow you a mostly peaceful and painless rest during the critical part of your healing process,”_ JARVIS continues, causing Loki to wonder why this information is being divulged to him. He is not normally told more than the basics needed to fulfil his duties. _“You will find your morning dose of medication next to the water on the bedside table and a fresh set of clothing on the dresser. Breakfast should be ready shortly. Mr Stark is waiting for you in the kitchen, down the hall to your right.”_

“Thank you?” Loki rasps, throat dry and itchy from the long disuse, the words coming out as more of a question than the intended show of gratitude.

_“You are welcome, sir. Please do not hesitate to ask in case you require my assistance with anything else.”_

When the voice does not add anything more to that statement, Loki slowly peels himself away from the wall and limps back over to the bed. He picks up the two white shapes lying besides what does indeed appear to be a glass of water, slipping them into the pocket of his trousers when a thorough visual inspection does not reveal their true purpose. He will take the beating over whatever effects these drugs could have on him, should his master find out that he did not eat them as ordered.

Sniffing the liquid firms Loki’s suspicion that it is indeed nothing poisonous, though one can never be cautious enough, so he sets it down again and moves to the pile of fabric on the wooden dresser on the opposite side of the chamber. The thought of what his owner might demand in exchange for clothing of such high value makes Loki’s stomach turn and he decides to leave them for now, hoping his still weakened state will be enough to stave off possible punishment for disobeying.

With a shaky breath and a trembling hand, Loki pushes open the door to go search for his master. If there is one thing he has learned in his time as an individual without rights or privileges, it is that keeping the people who, quite literally, hold your life in their hands waiting is never a wise choice.

***

It’s a risk, Tony knows, asking Bruce to stay down on the guest level. He also knows that while he can call for and assemble his suit in under half a minute, and that while the Hulk can smash his way up to his side in a few seconds tops, it takes considerably less time for Loki to defenestrate him again. Or snap his neck.

But Tony, for whatever unholy reasons, has developed the strangest - and creepiest, if you ask him - protective instincts during his and Ana’s daily visits with the trickster. It might be the guy’s current vulnerability or Tony’s ability to empathise with a torture victim or the fact that, putting aside the homicidal tendencies, Tony actually kind of appreciates Loki’s wit and dry sense of humour. Or the schoolgirl crush he’s been nursing for the last five years, who knows.

Point being, Tony wants, no, _needs_ Loki to feel safe in his home and meeting the guy who broke your spine and flattened you to the ground first thing after waking up from a drug-induced five day nap might not be the best course of action here.

So. No Bruce for backup. Just Tony, a presumably mighty confused Norse deity and a whole lot of issues to work through. Should make for interesting breakfast conversation, at least.

JARVIS announces that Loki is on his way, then, and a moment later the trickster hesitantly steps into the penthouse’s main area, eyes lowered to the floor and arms wrapped tightly around himself.

Tony clears his throat and forces a smile, trying to ignore how Loki flinches as he moves closer. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, nice to see you up and running,” he says, stopping a few feet away from the other man, unsure how to proceed when Loki just keeps quiet, frozen to the spot. “Eh, you hungry? No, sorry, stupid question. You must be starving by now. Come on, have a seat and let’s see what we can do about that.”

He nods at the bar and turns, heading back to the kitchen and throwing open the fridge. “Apparently you should go easy for a while, so I guess yoghurt and fruit? Hope that’s okay with you?” Tony asks, glancing over his shoulder only to see Loki ready to lower himself to his knees, so he quickly pulls out one of the bar stools for him.

Which obviously completely throws Loki for a loop, but after a moment of deliberation he sits down, hands folded neatly in his lap. Baby steps, though Tony figures that’s good enough for now.

“So. We have,” the engineer hums, moving some containers with all the healthy stuff Bruce insisted on around on the shelves, “vanilla and strawberry. Any preferences?” he wants to know, a cup of yoghurt in each hand and both eyebrows arched questioningly.

Going by Loki’s sudden and violent head-shaking, that was the wrong thing to ask. He’s shivering, too, Tony notices and puts the food down, frowning at the half-naked man in his kitchen. Emphasis on half-naked. A quick look at his feet and yup, no socks or shoes either. Huh.

“Didn’t J tell you about the clothes?” Tony demands, scowling at the ceiling. “J?”

 _“All the information was relayed as instructed, sir,”_ JARVIS snips, sounding offended, the diva.

Tony holds up his hands in surrender, rolling his eyes at the dramatics. “Geez. Fine. Loki, why-“ he breaks off, quickly sliding around the bar and ducking down in an attempt to make Loki look at him. “Hey, don’t do that, please,” he murmurs, gently pulling the trickster’s hand away from where he’s scratching at his already raw wrist. “Don’t hurt yourself, it’s okay.”

Loki isn’t convinced, however, trembling under Tony’s touch. With a sigh, Tony takes both of the other man’s hands between his, rubbing some warmth back into his skin. “Why didn’t you take the new clothes?”

He doesn’t really expect an answer and is doubly surprised when Loki whispers, still without meeting his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, nothing to be sorry for,” Tony shrugs and straightens up, putting on what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “How about this,” he muses and walks over to the sofa to grab his own hoodie, handing it to Loki. “Only wore it for, like, half an hour this morning, don’t worry. Still good and all.”

It takes a full thirty seconds, but then Loki accepts the proffered item and pushes his arms through the sleeves. Tony takes over and zips it shut when he fumbles with the mechanism, then runs his hands down Loki’s arms, giving them a calming squeeze.

“Now. Food!” he proclaims with a cheeky grin and a wink, diverting the attention away from their little incident. This time, Tony simply opens both cups and puts them in front of Loki, along with a spoon and a small bowl of assorted fruit. “Just eat whatever you like and how much you can, okay?”

 _“Sir,”_ JARVIS pipes up. _“It’s eight o’clock.”_

“Thanks, buddy,” Tony says through a swig of juice and swiftly pours another glass for Loki. “I’ll be right back,” he informs the trickster before he goes to wake up his other alien resident.

JARVIS has already opened the blinds and put on some music when Tony pushes open the door to Ana’s new room, the girl in question squirming and grumbling into her pillow. She holds on to the bed frame when Tony tries to lift her up, whining when he has to pry her hands loose.

“Who are we taking with us today, honey?” The distraction works and Ana points at the stuffed wolf in the midst of her armada of animals, making grabby hands for it. Tony bends and passes it over and she immediately buries her face in the fluffy toy, free hand hanging limply at her side.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Tony chuckles, nosing at her temple and then pressing a brief kiss to it, stifling a yawn of his own. “I’m not a morning person either, just so you know. But Bruce insists that you need a regular schedule or something, so here we are.”

That earns him a tired huff and an uncoordinated pat to the cheek. When they reach the main area, Tony tilts his head down to whisper next to Ana’s ear, “Guess who’s up?!”

The girl looks up at that and lets out a delighted squeak when she spots her father, wriggling so hard Tony nearly drops her several times until he can place her in Loki’s lap with an amused little laugh.

Loki seems stunned for a second, but then he wraps his arm around his daughter and cradles her close against himself, kissing her face, her hands and the top of her head while Ana nuzzles into his neck, hands curling into his hair and the wolf falling to the floor, completely forgotten.

Tony busies himself in order to hide his goofy smile, all warmth and fondness, and goes to retrieve his and Ana’s breakfast - omelettes with veggies, as it turns out - from the dumbwaiter. He gets another glass for the girl who, in the meantime, has managed to stand up on her father’s thighs, waving at Tony in undisguised excitement as he strolls back over to them.

As soon as he reaches the bar, Ana practically throws herself at him, all giddy energy now that Loki’s back amongst the living, and Tony has just about enough time to set down their plates - the glass being lost in the process - and catch her around the waist before she hits the floor.

“Careful there, monkey,” he chides softly, settling the squirming bundle of keyed up toddler on his hip. He dislodges a shard of glass from his sock and kicks a few others in the general direction of the wastebasket for the bots to deal with later.

It’s not like the loss of some crockery is a big deal. Or at least Tony thinks so until he looks up and spots the sheer terror written clear as day all over Loki’s face. On a whim, he grabs one of the omelettes, takes a big step to avoid the worst of the mess and places Ana back on the floor, pushing the plate into her hands and nudging her toward the couch.

“How about eating in front of the TV today? Your show with the dog and the weird kid and the princess blob is on, isn’t that right, JARVIS?”

 _“Of course, sir, right away,”_ the AI answers immediately, flickering on the television to the girl’s currently favourite cartoon.

And Ana, clever little thing that she is, picks up on the tension and nods, doing as asked without a fuss.

“I’ll bring you some juice in a minute, sweetheart, all right?” Tony calls after her, spinning around and stopping in his tracks when he sees Loki, on his knees on the floor, gathering the broken pieces of glass with his bare fingers.

“Apologies, master,” the trickster pleads when he notices Tony’s eyes on him, not even reacting to the blood on his hands, chest heaving in what the engineer suspects is about to become a full panic attack. He gives a whole body jerk when Tony hauls him to his feet and steers him back onto a stool.

“Listen to me, Loki,” Tony begins, gentle but insistent, and hooks a finger under the other man’s chin so he has to look him in the face. He takes one of Loki’s hands and sprawls it across his own chest, breathing in and out slowly as encouragement for Loki to do the same. “It’s fine, I’m not angry. You’re not in trouble and neither is Ana. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my guests and that’s how you’ll be treated. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Loki opens his mouth as if to say something but then shuts it again, apparently changing his mind, and anxiously casts his eyes down and away from Tony’s gaze.

It’s tempting to groan out his frustration with this whole fucked up situation, though Tony manages to contain himself. Just so. “Loki. I’m not going to hurt you. No one is. You are safe here, I’ll make sure of that. I don’t give a flying fuck what I signed, what I’m supposed to do or how anyone thinks I should treat you. This is your home and you are welcome here, as a person, not as my servant or property. And for Christ’s sake, please call me Tony, yeah?”

He’s hesitant, clearly considering the sincerity of Tony’s words, but in the end Loki awards him with a single, quick nod.

“Yeah?” Tony prompts again, needing for what he said to really sink in.

“Yes,” Loki murmurs uncertainly and, when the engineer quirks a brow at him, ventures carefully, “Yes, Tony.”

Tony beams at him, releasing his face and shooting him a cheerful smile. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t actually know what to say, but I’ve never not written an end of chapter note…
> 
> *awkward silence*
> 
> AH! Right! Last chapter’s title was stolen from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6l6vqPUM_FE) song. Guys, never start playing Fallout 3. You’ll do it for over three hundred hours (I’m not kidding, I have a problem) and then have a panicked series of “WHAT THE FUCK AM I EVEN DOING WITH MY LIFE?” moments before you simply carry on playing.
> 
> Okay. I, eh, guess that’s it for now. 
> 
> Bye!


	18. Hugging the Boogieman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I accidentally wrote a chapter almost exclusively from Loki’s POV. But since you guys wanted to see more of him anyway... you’re welcome, I guess?! 
> 
> By the way, in the last chapter when Tony talks about Ana’s show “with the dog and the weird kid and the princess blob” that’s exactly what my sister called Adventure Time when she found me and my brother in front of the telly, stoned out of our minds, giggling like twelve year old girls during our marathon. Just FYI. 
> 
> Also, fair warning for Loki being an overall wreck and Tony being, well, a wreck too and having no idea how to handle any of what’s happening (but somehow being surprisingly good at it nonetheless).

**Chapter XVIII - Hugging the Boogieman**

* * *

The tiny bandages his ma- _Anthony_ , for Loki cannot bring himself to use the inappropriately shortened version of the man's name unless he is forced to do so, applied to his torn fingers stick to his sensitive skin in a most uncomfortable manner.

There is a bit of the pleasantly cool healing ointment oozing out from under the one wrapped around his thumb. Loki briefly considers wiping it away in an attempt to give the mess that is body at least some semblance of a neat and tidy appearance, but in the end he refrains. He does not want to appear ungrateful or rude by undoing or changing Anthony's work.

"You should really eat something."

Loki startles out of his thoughts at the other man's voice, hand tightening around his spoon and eyes flickering over his still untouched breakfast.

The mere thought of food makes him queasy and ill, a bout of nausea washing over him when he lifts a piece of fruit up to his mouth and the sweet smell assaults him at once. He shudders and has to swallow hard to push the rising bile back down his throat.

Logically, Loki is well aware that most of his reluctance to eat and even his physical uneasiness stem from the fear of what might follow. There is no counting the times something had been hidden in his sparse meals to make him more pliant and manageable to his owner’s wishes or the increasingly vile and painful acts demanded of him as payment for his nourishment.

Feeling hunger gnaw away at his insides allows him a certain degree of control over a situation that is otherwise almost entirely out of his hands.

“Here,” Anthony smiles when he fails to answer, leaning closer and peeking into his bowl before spearing a little red berry onto his fork and popping it into his own mouth. “Try one of these, they’re super juicy.”

As if on cue, Loki’s stomach gives a traitorous rumble. He finds himself unable to recall the last time he was fed anything but the thick, foul-tasting slop his previous master used to keep him alive with, most of which he usually snuck over into the slave quarters for his daughter and the other always ravenous children if he could confirm it to be free of any dangerous substances.

He cranes his neck, then, to get a better view of Ana where she’s sprawled across the sofa, the wolf toy clutched in one hand and three fingers of the other crammed into her mouth. Her curious eyes are fixed on the moving pictures, utterly absorbed in the story, as she wiggles to snuggle under the blanket Anthony draped over her when he brought her the promised beverage.

She appears to be at ease around the man to an extent where she not only let him touch but also carry and pet her. Suspicion of everyone in a position of power was one of the first things Loki sought out to teach her, something he made sure to become instinctive along with planning routes for an eventual escape and knowing how to protect the softest and most vulnerable parts of her body from attack. These skills, coupled with her natural seidr-gift for reading people and their intentions, make gaining his daughter’s trust a hard earned privilege and an incredibly difficult to accomplish task - one Anthony seems to have achieved nonetheless.

And the fondness she has for the man is clearly returned, that much is obvious to Loki even without using his senses. It is not what he expected to find upon waking, this tentative but already strong companionship between his daughter and Anthony. Not that Loki doesn’t prefer this to all the less desirable alternatives, but the sheer difference to what would be a master’s normal treatment of his properties is leaving him confused and with an odd sense of wrongness.

Scathing words and beatings he knows to anticipate and how prepare for, this gentleness and concern, however, have him wary and on edge. He desperately wants them to be genuine, Ana firmly believes them to be so, and yet the prospect of falling for a ruse, getting comfortable and being taken by surprise once Anthony’s mask is lifted and his true face shown is what deeply scares Loki. He can bear all the badness and pain and depravity thrown his way, has learned how to shield his child from the worst of it, but he is not sure that he could survive receiving kindness only to have it taken away again.

“Loki?” Anthony ventures carefully, head tilted to the side and eyebrows raised. “Look, I’m not saying I get how you must be feeling right now, not at all. But you’ve got to eat something, your body really needs it.” He bites his bottom lip and frowns suddenly, studying Loki’s face while Loki cautiously watches him from the corner his eye. “How’s the pain? Are you managing? I can get you some more meds if it’s too bad, it’s not like we had anything to go on with the dosage since you’re, you know, not exactly human.”

A wave of shame and guilt crushes over Loki and he hangs his head further, bringing up his shoulders to hunch in on himself. The refused medication sits heavily against his thigh, a reminder that he already went against Anthony’s orders once in the short time since he woke, and the confession is on the tip of his tongue when Anthony beats him to it.

“You didn’t take them.” It’s a realisation, not a question, causing Loki to tense his muscles and brace himself for the inevitable. “Of course you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki mumbles, fishing the two white shapes out of his pocket and placing them on the high table between them. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Anthony sighs as he takes them and breaks each into two smaller pieces, handing half of them back and keeping the others in his palm. “This is my fault. Why would you take some weird tablets just because someone you don’t know tells you to? I wouldn’t!”

Loki is quick to shake his head, though, unable to see anything but a trap in Anthony putting the blame on himself. “I should have taken them as you told me to,” he admits quietly, grabbing hard at his own wrist to ground himself against the rising panic. “I went against your wishes and deserve whatever punishment you see fit for my disobedience.”

Anthony lets out a long, exhausted breath and slides his stool closer - made easier now they’re sitting on the same side of the table, away from the broken glass - moving to cover Loki’s gripping hand with his own, stroking a finger over Loki’s knuckles while rubbing at his forehead with his free hand. “The only thing I want you to do is tell me the truth,” he says eventually, his voice sincere and almost pleading. “No matter what, you can tell me. I won’t get mad and you most certainly won’t be punished. Never. I promise. No, I _swear_. You have to talk to me, okay? Can you do that? Can you try?”

The touch of another person, not intended to hurt but calm and comfort, is still foreign and extremely distracting, yet not wholly unwelcome. It feels nice, Loki thinks, observing as Anthony wipes away the drop of stray cream that bothered him earlier. He nods, risking a glance up at the other man and finding him watching him in return, so he quickly lowers his gaze again.

“That’s why you won’t eat, isn’t it?” Anthony muses, showing more of that eerie perceptiveness and determination Loki remembers from their very first meeting all those years ago. “Fine. Here, let me.”

He stretches to reach a drawer and Loki’s stomach does the most unreasonable thing and drops at the loss of contact. His hand darts out before he is fully aware of what’s happening, curling around a fistful of shirt and holding on. Tightly.

There is a moment of tense silence where both men stare down between them, at Loki’s unyielding hand, Anthony with an unreadable expression and Loki with cold trepidation. But then, to Loki’s astonishment, Anthony simply shrugs off the utter undueness of the gesture and permits the embarrassing clinging without a word of mockery, returning to his rifling until he turns back to Loki with a spoon in his hand and purposefulness in his eyes.

“Okay, so. This one,” he explains, pointing at the slightly bigger of the tablet pieces with the end of his silverware, “is for the pain. Fair warning, it might make you a little woozy and tired for an hour or so ‘cause it’s insanely strong to counter your uber-human metabolism and whatnot . But no more medically induced sleeping, all right? That was a onetime occurrence and only to prevent you from hurting yourself and make stitching you back up and everything less nightmarish. I realise that probably wasn’t the best thing to do to gain your trust in all of this, but we were desperate. I don’t know how much you remember, but, eh, you were in an all around pretty bad shape when you arrived here.”

“Everything is blurry,” Loki admits, absently playing with the fabric between his fingers, trying to recall the events from five days prior. There is a flash of a memory and his head snaps up, wide eyes fixed on Anthony’s patiently waiting ones. “You... you held me? I was... agitated and the... the doctor, he talked to me and made me go to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Anthony laughs, a sound dry and completely devoid of amusement. “You were freaking out bad. Hell, we both were. Scared the crap out of me and I had no idea what to do, how to make it better. So Bruce intervened.”

Bruce. The Beast. “He was kind to me,” Loki whispers, more to himself than the other man, as he remembers the doctor’s soft voice helping to soothe his frightened mind, the care and compassion evident in his every motion when he was assessing Loki’s injuries.

“He usually is, yup,” Anthony nods, “nicest guy I know. Don’t let the big green dude fool you, Bruce doesn’t like him anymore than you do. Tries his best to keep him from turning up too much unless, well...” he trails off sheepishly, grimacing, and Loki knows what he’s referring to.

“I’m sorry,” he tries because what else is there to say? All Loki is able to recollect from the time under His influence are noises and tore-up, distorted pictures and cruel dreams, heightened emotions and excruciating anguish whenever he dared to fight against the hold over him. He was told about what he did on Midgard, about the destruction and death he caused, was put on trial for it and sentenced to his current existence, but that is all there is. Broken pieces and angry tales.

Anthony waves a dismissive hand, though, and shoots him a smile which, while haunted and strained, is no less honest. “What’s done is done, shit happened and now we’re moving on. That’s life, nothing we can do about it.” He dips his spoon into one of the cups sitting in front of Loki and swallows the small portion of yoghurt with the pain relief medication. “That should get rid of my headache, at least. Anyway! This one,” he continues, holding the other little tablet between two fingers and taking a spoonful out of the other cup, “is so you won’t throw up after not eating for so long. Helps to not upset your stomach, I sometimes take them when I’m freakishly hungover. Ugh, I hate tequila.”

Loki could point out that it is entirely possible for Anthony to have prepared for this eventuality, that he took some remedy to fight whatever it is he wants to dose Loki with. There is this sensation, however, a mixture between bewilderment and gratitude that his master - for that’s what Anthony is, no matter what name Loki refers to him by - would go to such lengths in order to prove that he means no harm.

Ever so slowly, Loki picks up the powdery tablets and places them on his tongue. They’re bitter, starting to foam the instant they make contact with the moisture inside his mouth, but the acrid taste vanishes quickly with a huge gulp of juice. He follows the drink with a miniscule bit of yoghurt, surprised enough by its fruity sweetness that he looks over at Anthony who is watching him with a soft expression full of relief.

“Thank you,” he beams, as if Loki eating is the very highlight of his day, and briefly squeezes Loki’s hand where it’s still clutching at his shirt before turning his attention back to his own meal.

The remainder of their breakfast is spent in an almost companionable quiet with Loki alternating between learning which berries and fruits he does and does not like and sneaking puzzled glances at the point of contact between himself and the other man.

When he starts to feel full after merely a third of what he was given is gone, Anthony tells him it’s perfectly fine and asks if he would like some tea. Loki does and this time, when he’s presented with at least a dozen different kinds, he only hesitates for a short moment before selecting one that sounds promising instead of feeling overwhelmed by the vast choice.

Anthony does not comment when he reaches for him again, allowing Loki to sit close while he cradles the mug of hot tea in one hand and fists the other into his sleeve, engrossed in Ana’s moving pictures although the plot doesn’t make much sense to him.

It’s when Loki begins to lean into his side, made weary by the morning’s exertions and emotional up and down, that Anthony speaks again and gently nudges him to get up. “Come on, I’m supposed to change your bandages before you fall asleep again. I’ll show you to your room and help you with that, then you can wash up and have a nap if you want to, okay?”

Loki accepts the proffered arm, equal parts glad about the assistance his weak knees obviously need and humiliated that he is in a state where he cannot make the short journey from the kitchen down the hallway on his own. He does relish the proximity to the other man, though, putting more of his weight than strictly necessary on him and revelling in the simple pleasure that is physical closeness to someone beside his daughter.

The bathing chamber Anthony leads him to is spacious and bright, a window overlooking the city casting the dark wooden furniture into a warm light. He helps Loki out of the hoodie and assists him with removing the old bandages, wincing and apologising whenever Loki twitches and sucks in little pained breaths.

Loki tenses up now that Anthony is the one initiating the touching, but attempts to keep himself still and let the man carry on with his work. It goes better than expected, too, until he disappears behind Loki to peel away the gauze on his back and Loki cannot see him anymore.

Having another being in his personal space suddenly becomes suffocating, triggering a claustrophobic fight-or-flight response that has Loki whirl around, thrashing, panting heavily and ready to pounce on whoever is unfortunate enough to stand in his path - namely Anthony.

His fingers are mere inches away from choking the life out of the supposed threat when Anthony’s scent hits him, reeking of distress and confusion and helplessness - a reflection of what is currently driving him to attack - and Loki falters in his advance, face crumpling in realisation of his action and the possible consequences.

Where he normally strives for mind over matter, now Loki’s body takes over and he lurches forward with a distraught whine.

***

The change in Loki’s demeanour is abrupt and terrifying. Tony wouldn’t have called him relaxed exactly, but he thought they were making progress during breakfast.

“Ngh,” is all he manages when Loki crashes into him and clings, forcing all the air out of Tony’s lungs. There is an arm around his waist and shit, it fucking _hurts_ , too strong fingers digging into his hip and biceps where Loki’s other arm has come to circle his shoulders.

It’s impossible to tell what Loki is mumbling into his neck but he’s sobbing and Tony can make out the occasional “I’m sorry!” and “Please!” through the tears while the former God is shaking and struggling for breath.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” Tony murmurs, placing a careful hand on the back of Loki’s neck and stroking softly, cheek coming to rest against Loki’s temple. “It’s okay, everything’s fine.”

He doesn’t need to be a genius, though he is, to figure out that Loki isn’t going to let go anytime soon, so Tony moves them both to stand in front of the bathroom mirror and grabs a scrunchie - seriously, the things started turning up _everywhere_ the moment Ana moved in, he has no idea where they come from, he bought two or three packs tops - out of the cabinet, pulling Loki’s hair out of the way and into a messy bun.

An engineering degree is, apparently, a good basis for applying disinfectant and bandaging a trembling man’s back while said man is plastered to your chest and you have to stand on tiptoes to see over his bony shoulders. Tony is a little bit proud, despite the shitty situation.

“You wanna go lie down for a while?” he asks softly, lightly cupping Loki’s face when he finally moves back a little, thumbs brushing away the dampness from underneath hollow, unseeing eyes.

No answer forthcoming - surprise, surprise - Tony sighs and stumble-walks over into the guest room with Loki more or less wrapped around him, helping him into bed and under the covers where he adopts a foetal position, back against the headboard and blankets pulled up to his chin.

“What can I do?” only earns Tony the slightest of head-shakes and he leaves with a plea to shout should Loki need anything, knowing the request to be pointless.

How did he become the boogieman _and_ a security blanket in the span of a single morning? And how the actual fuck is this his life right now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, look at how they’re bonding and- BOOM, RIGHT IN THE FEELS WITH THE ANGST! 
> 
> Sorry about that. 
> 
> The seidr-gift! I decided a while ago that I want some of the people born with magic to have gifts, so to speak. Not everyone who’s magically inclined possesses one, while we’re all special little snowflakes (how’s that for a cute nickname for Loki, by the way?), some of us are just more special here. Deal with it. Anyway. Some people are gifted with abilities such as being especially well-versed in one particular area of spell crafting or having an affinity to control a certain element or, like Ana, being able to read people and/or their intentions, to name just a few. Those abilities aren’t affected by the blockers either, since those only inhibit learned magic, not the one you're born with.
> 
> And yes, of course Loki is gifted as well. He’s _Loki_. His senses aren’t it, though, that is a normal Jotunn thing, them being almost entirely magical and everything. You’ll see what he can do later. It’ll be fun!


	19. BOOM!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anthony Edward Stark, this is _NOT_ a safe way to entertain a child! But everyone’s having fun, so carry on. 
> 
> We’re back to Tony’s POV for the moment while Loki is sleeping. Remember how I said that wouldn’t happen again? I lied. But he’ll be back in the next chapter, so don’t worry.

**Chapter XIX - BOOM!**

* * *

Tony doesn’t get the time to process any of the crazily overwhelming things that happened since Loki woke up or to gather his thoughts after their bathroom incident. The very first thing he sees when he turns away from the guest room is Ana with her blankie - AKA what used to be his second favourite Black Sabbath shirt - clasped tightly in one hand and about half the fingers of her free hand shoved into her mouth. And she’s wearing that too old and aware expression a three-year-old has no right to even know again, too.

_Shit._

“Ah, crap,” Tony says, the epitome of eloquence, and casts a glance back at the closed door as if it somehow holds all the answers to the shitload of questions the topics of which he has absolutely no idea how to broach. Hint; doors are terrible at giving advice.

With a heavy sigh and a _thump_ , Tony lets his head fall back against the wall and slides down until he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. “There’s no chance in hell I can convince you everything’s fine, is there?” he asks resignedly, rubbing a hand over his face and peeking at the girl through the gaps between his fingers.

Ana shakes her head at that, taking a tentative step in his direction, brows drawn into a frown and eyes wide and shining.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Tony sighs and holds out his arms, beckoning her closer. Showing a distinctive lack of regard for personal space only small children and eccentric billionaire playboys can get away with, Ana crawls right into his lap, tucks her head under his chin and noses the hem of his shirt out of the way to bury her face in the junction of Tony’s neck and shoulder.

It’s her favourite spot, or at least Tony figures it is. They end up in this position whenever either one of them has a need for a bit of human-alien contact and goes to seek out the other for some cuddles. Which happens more and more often with each passing day. Tony doesn’t mind per se, but it’s a little disconcerting how much he’s come to rely on the girl for comfort after not letting anyone else - apart from Bruce and the occasional hug they share - get near him, emotionally or physically, for years.

And it just gets ridiculous when he’s woken up in the middle of the night by tiny feet-icicles being worked underneath his pyjamas.

“I have absolutely no idea what to tell you,” he confesses after a while, absently working some of the tangles out of the girl’s curls. “Your dad is... sick, I guess. Yeah, he’s not feeling so great. He’s hurt and that makes him sad, you know?”

Are there pamphlets or brochures for this kind of thing? Something along the lines of ‘how to explain what you suspect to be PTSD to the child of your alien slave’ or ‘talking about abuse with a toddler who’s been witness and victim to it without further scarring or completely breaking them in the process’ would be extremely helpful right about now.

But there aren’t, of course, ‘cause this is real life and real life is sucky and fucking _hard._

“How about we go and blow some shit up, huh?” he suggest instead, relaxing a bit when he feels Ana smile against his skin and nod.

***

Normally, Tony’s reluctant to allow people into the sanctuary of his lab, never mind actually let them touch his stuff. Bruce, as a fellow tinkerer and appreciator of all things scientific, is the exception. Working together has become something Tony enjoys and looks forward to after going a few weeks without his science-bro; bouncing ideas back and forth, shamelessly using the man as a sounding board for his own - mostly insane - brainchildren or simply goofing around trying to find a way to make Bruce’s pants flexible enough so they stop ripping when he hulks out.

Pepper probably still has the access codes unless she deleted them in a petty fit of post-relationship anger. Tony never bothered to change them or revoke her rights. Things between them are fucked beyond repair but she’s been in his life for forever and is the acting CEO of Stark Enterprises, thus a person who holds his trust. Their personal relationship lies in flames, so to speak, though he knows the business means as much or even more to her than it does to him. So they manage. Somehow.

And Steve, well, America’s Sweetheart could most likely charm JARVIS into doing pretty much anything. Either his AI has a crush on the man in tights or they’re conspiring against him, Tony’s fairly sure about it. Steve has turned up with a plate of Tony’s favourite pastrami sandwiches to lure the overworked engineer out of his inventing headspace one time too many for it to be coincidental.

But that’s it. That’s everyone Tony more or less willingly permits to be around him while he’s holed up down here between his bots and machines. Or, it was, until he realised Ana’s new bed wasn’t height-adjustable and excuse you, Tony is most definitely not going to ruin his back picking up a grumpy, freshly woken kid every morning for the foreseeable future, thank you very much.

So he’d had Dum-E haul all the parts into the lab and was in the middle of disassembling the side tables - because why not update those as well if he’s on a run anyway? - before he remembered the little girl he was supposed to babysit. After recovering from the almost heart attack the prospect of telling Loki about losing his daughter had prompted, he’d found her blessedly - miraculously - unharmed and playing ‘throw that dirty piece of cloth around the room and have Dum-E fetch it’.

And while he would have freaked out and banished just about everyone else simply for being there, the thought to do so with Ana never even occurred to him. Tony did give her a lab coat, a pair of goggles and some ear plugs, though, so she could watch him welt and hammer away without destroying her eyes and ears while looking absolutely fabulous.

“Okay, so,” Tony says as he’s rolling up her coat sleeves to free Ana’s hands. “Let’s see if we can’t get my new remote-controlled minions to blast those baddies into oblivion, shall we?”

Ana nods enthusiastically, nearly vibrating out of her skin with barely contained excitement, and takes off the moment Tony sets her back down on the floor to climb up onto the sill by the big window showing the fire- and explosion-proof test room, mashing her face against the safety glass.

“JARVIS,” Tony calls and flops down in his swivel chair, rolling himself into position. “Ready when you are.”

_“Starting protocol now, sir.”_

The as of yet unnamed minions - which are absolutely not cleaning bots Tony equipped with blasters because he was bored - whirr to life and the flap in the opposite wall opens, releasing an only half-functioning and mostly stripped Doom Bot he may or may not have stolen during clean-up a few weeks ago.

While there are some pretty neat explosions, JARVIS is recording all the data and so Tony’s mind begins to wander back to his resident God of Mischief and other Things Deadly.

Thor’s idea to hire a therapist for his brother wasn’t the worst, as much as the mere thought of a shrink makes Tony shudder. With Loki, they’d probably need about a dozen of them, though. Besides, the man is nowhere near ready to be introduced to more strangers and talk about his undoubtedly traumatic last years. It’s been nearly a decade since Tony’s run-in with the Ten Rings and he still hasn’t called any of the numbers his friends keep throwing at him in hopes to finally get him to open up.

And compared to what Loki went through, the three months Tony spent in a cave in Afghanistan seem like a walk in the park.

So, no. He’s not going to push or pressure Loki into any of that before he’s one-hundred percent sure he can handle it. And if that turns out to be never, that’s fine, too. They’ll work something out, insists an extremely selfish part of Tony that wants him to be the one to help, to make everything better and awesome again.

He could lie to himself and say it’s because Thor asked him to keep Loki and Ana safe and he’s taking that seriously, but Tony has a failsafe against bullshitting himself. The thing is, he cares. Not about doing the good or the right thing, he’s established that’s not something he gives a flying fuck about, but about the two people who depend on him.

One of them has him wrapped around her little finger already while the other has woken up ridiculously extreme protective instincts in Tony he never even knew he had or was capable of.

They’re not family and not exactly friends either yet, but they are _his_. Not in Asgard’s ‘slaves are property’ way, never that, more in a ‘you touch the people I inexplicably like to an unreasonable degree and I will liquefy every single bone in your body and gauge out your eyes’ way that scares the ever living hell out of Tony.

So he uses his special manoeuvre for situations he can’t wrap his head around; deflection.

“Having fun over there?”

Ana turns to him, her smile almost splitting her face in half, and mimics an explosion with her hands while mouthing _BOOM!_

Tony grins and tells JARVIS to send in some more bots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has absolutely nothing to do with the story, but I’m desperate and about to punch someone in the throat if I don’t find THIS FUCKING SONG! 
> 
> Anyway. Maybe you guys can help?! 
> 
> I thought the song was by Frankie Goes to Hollywood, although that might not be the case. It’s about queer people in history and the video clip is the singer(s) standing there and all the people they’re singing about strutting up and down a walkway. I think Shakespeare’s there. I don’t remember. It’s colourful like everything was in the 80s. 
> 
> Please, for the love of everything chocolaty, help me! Tell me I wasn’t drunk and just dreamt this!


	20. The Spaghetti Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, people. Life did that thing where nothing whatsoever went right and I got frustrated. And drunk. 
> 
> Aaaaaaaanyway. 
> 
> As you might notice when reading this chapter, I’m no doctor. But I know from personal experience that what JARVIS and Loki do actually helps in certain situations, so there’s that. Just don’t hold me to anything medical I say from here on out, it’ll probably be complete bollocks. Or magic. Yeah, whenever something doesn’t make sense, just pretend it’s magic somehow. Ha. 
> 
> The chapter title is inspired by a Guns N’ Roses album which contains this beautiful [gem](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYOYlqOitDA).

**Chapter XX - The Spaghetti Incident**

* * *

Loki waits until the door falls shut behind Anthony before he brings a pillow up to his head, pressing his face into the soft fabric as a strangled wail rips out of his already painfully raw throat.

The first few breaths come in ragged gasps, but then the whole process becomes startlingly difficult, nigh impossible. With the increasing speed of his air intake comes a wave of renewed panic, making breathing even harder. It is a vicious, inescapable cycle that has Loki flailing wildly, eyes frantically darting around the room, trying to find _something_ , until the collected voice of the mechanical servant manages to penetrate the aura of dread and confusion around him.

_“Sir, your vitals are starting to reach critical levels. Would you like me to call Mr Stark or Doctor Banner to assist you?”_

Frantic, Loki shakes his head, embarrassment and shame colouring his cheeks and neck a faint pink. His behaviour so far has been abysmal, leaping from frightened and suspicious to downright terrified and crying as if he were a mere child.

No, he could not bear for Anthony - or worse, the doctor - to witness him in this condition yet again, cannot allow himself to think about his current vulnerability and what terrible things could easily be done to him in this state.

_“Please, If I might be of help, then, sir,”_ JARVIS continues and Loki tries to focus his attention on the conversation. _“You are experiencing a mild panic attack and are currently hyperventilating, quickly approaching hypocapnea. One way of preventing this from occurring is diaphragmatic breathing.”_

Loki’s head is spinning, his ability to concentrate on the meaning of the spoken words severely impaired. Simply listening appears to already have a calming effect, however, and JARVIS is patient with him.

_“Lie on your back with your knees bent and feet flat on the mattress,”_ JARVIS instructs, clear and short. _“Place one hand on your stomach, directly below your ribs, and the other on your chest.”_

It takes Loki a moment to untangle himself from the blankets and another to actually move into the described position. His whole body hurts and feels sluggish, heavy with an invisible but insistent weight.

_“Very good, sir,”_ JARVIS praises, somehow managing to sound sincere instead of mocking Loki for failing at one of the most basic tasks of survival. _“Now, take a deep breath through your nose. Let the inhalation push your stomach out while keeping your chest as still as possible.”_

The first attempt turns out to be a complete mishap with Loki starting to cough and having to rub the gathering moisture out of his eyes. The second one is marginally better and the third one finally a success.

_“Exhale through pursed lips and use your hand to guide the air out of your lungs. Slow and steady, we are in no hurry, sir.”_

They work together for what feels, to Loki at least, like hours but can, in reality, only be minutes. With a tremendous effort, Loki heaves himself up the bed to lean against the headboard, combing sweaty strands of hair out of his eyes.

_“How are you feeling, sir?”_

“Better,” Loki rasps and coughs some more, then remembers to add a quiet, “Thank you.” that JARVIS answers with reassurances that it was no bother at all.

He is debating whether to lie down properly for a nap, his exhaustion having caught up with him again, or to acquire a glass of water from the bathing chambers when a terrible thought hits him. “Sir?” he asks uncertainly, swallowing hard at JARVIS’ acknowledgement before he goes on. “Will you tell Anthony about this?”

There is a silence which Loki interprets as confirmation until JARVIS says, _“My instructions are to alert Mr Stark in case of emergency. I believe some allowances can be made due to your unusual circumstances and as long as this remains an isolated incident. There will be no hesitation on my part should we find ourselves in a similar situation again and I strongly advise you to talk about the episode with a person of your choosing in order to define causes and avoid future triggering.”_

“I do not wish to speak about it,” Loki whispers meekly and grabs for the blankets, settling down with his back to the wall and a clear line of vision toward the door.

Anthony assured him that he wasn’t here to work and serve but there is a piece of parchment with Anthony’s signature on it which clearly states otherwise. No one appreciates broken toys and tools and Loki would rather not take the chance and find out if Anthony is a person who simply discards his things once they’ve outlived their usefulness.

Wherever they would send him if Anthony decided he did not want him anymore, there is no question that it would be worse. While the clothes, good food, friendly conversation and concern directed at him are strange and unfamiliar, Loki absolutely does not want to trade them for renewed beatings, humiliation and worse. He likes his current situation as much as being another’s property can ever be something one likes but, surprisingly and more importantly, Loki likes Anthony.

If living his life in servitude is all he can look forward to, he wants to spend as much of that miserable existence where he was shown the first fragments of dignity and care in much too long a time. Loki wants to stay and, therefore, he has to be good. He has to be valuable and obedient to his owner in order to earn his keep.

And Anthony seems to be fond of Ana, a rather fortunate circumstance. There is little Loki would not do or endure to ensure his daughter’s relative safety and prevent her from growing up in constant hunger and pain.

_“Would you like me to wake you up in time for lunch, sir?”_ JARVIS interrupts and Loki realises his eyes have fallen shut out of their own accord as he blinks them back open.

The prospect of joining the rest of the household for a meal is daunting, but the computer asked and that most likely means that Anthony instructed him to do so and desires Loki’s company. It is best not to disappoint any further. “Yes, please.”

_“Very well, sir.”_

***

Bathing is not recommended yet, JARVIS informs Loki after rousing him for the midday meal, because of his wounds and bandages. He is, however, allowed to wash away the worst of the dirt, grime and sweat that collected over the last days in the generous marble basin as long as he takes the necessary precautions.

It is already more than Loki expected and the bonus of soaps and warm water actually makes him a tiny bit giddy and overeager for which he pays when bending to douse his head causes a wave of dizziness. But when he feels fresher and more clean-smelling afterwards - wrapped in several towels JARVIS insisted were his to use - than he has in years, he figures the little amount of discomfort was a small price to pay.

He deposits the dirty clothing in the laundry hamper as instructed, only taking the hooded garment Anthony gave him back to the bedroom where he opens the closets and has to take a step back, overwhelmed by the number of shirts and trousers and whatnot he finds inside. And they are _his_ , the computer says when he asks what they are for. His to choose from and wear as he pleases, apparently.

There is still a lingering twinge of discomfort sitting tight in his belly as he inspects the clothing, an uncertainty as to what will be demanded of him in exchange for this despite Anthony telling him over breakfast that he wants nothing in return.

Since he cannot stand there considering his options forever, though, Loki picks whatever feels best under his fingers, ending up with a pair of loose black trousers and a sleeveless shirt of the same colour. He pulls the dark red piece Anthony gave him on over that because Anthony gave it to him which means he wants Loki to wear it. Being dressed, or undressed, to his owner’s wishes and desires is nothing new, after all.

The socks he finds in one of the drawers cause him to slither on the tiled floor and JARVIS to point him to a pair of house shoes. They are soft and woolly on the inside and quite possibly the work of a genius, Loki thinks, staring at himself in the huge mirror on the closet door.

_“Mr Stark and Miss Ana are in the workshop if you would like to join them, sir,”_ JARVIS says eventually, drawing Loki back and away from the absurdness of seeing himself properly washed and clothed for once.

After receiving the directions, Loki ventures out into the hall only for the first person he encounters to be the doctor, emerging from another door closer to the kitchen and sitting room.

If such a thing were possible, Loki would be certain that his heart was trying its best to forcefully beat its way out of his chest. There are vague memories of the doctor treating him upon his arrival, of him being nothing but gentle and kind, but there is also the horror of waking up from having his mind and actions controlled by a monster of darkness and death through repeatedly being slammed into the ground by a violent green giant.

“Hello,” the doctor smiles, then, and all Loki receives when he widens the range of his senses is curiosity and worry concerning his injuries along with an almost unbelievable radiance of calmness.

Which is not natural and instantly makes him suspicious as to what is buried and hidden underneath. He stumbles back, made clumsy by his tired, uncooperative body, and collides with a firm chest and an arm that automatically reaches out to steady him.

“Easy there, Bambi,” Anthony chuckles, giving his elbow a little squeeze.

Ana beams up at him, or the both of them, when she darts past and barrels into the doctor’s legs, gesturing excitedly as she follows him to the kitchen after the doctor exchanges a look Loki cannot decipher with Anthony.

“I’m sorry,” Loki mumbles the instant the others are out of hearing range, turning around to face Anthony but dutifully lowering his eyes.

There are warm hands on his arms, then, thumbs rubbing in slow, lazy circles. “What for?”

For not returning the doctor’s greeting, for acting as if he were nothing more than an easily spooked animal, for making things awkward for Anthony and his friend. He does not say any of those things, however, merely repeats, “I’m sorry.”

“We’re good. You’re good,” Anthony sighs, sounding exasperated but there is also a hint of something else.

Loki chances a quick glance up at him and completely forgets to look away again when he spots the sadness pulling Anthony’s mouth and the corners of his eyes into a grimace. There is an urge in him to apologise for causing that pained expression which he tampers down, fairly sure that it would not be what Anthony wants to hear from him. He cannot even begin to fathom what he is expected to say instead, so he elects to remain silent.

“Come on,” Anthony says, a little strained, and gives his arms a last brief rub before turning away. “Bruce made spaghetti.”

There is barely a foot of space between them as they walk down the hall, Loki staying close and partially hidden behind Anthony at all times.

The doctor is standing by the stove, arranging long yellowish shapes on plates. Food, _spaghetti_ , Loki supposes, although he does not know what they are. Ana has already carried a full plate to the low table by the sofa, kneeling on a cushion as she waits - impatiently, Loki can tell from the set of her shoulders - for the others and the meal to begin.

“Would you like sauce and cheese on yours?”

It takes Anthony gently nudging his side for Loki to realise it is him the doctor is speaking to. “I-“ he begins but cuts himself off, directing a panicked look at Anthony who jumps in to assist without hesitation.

“Here, have a look.” He ushers the doctor aside, earning himself a good-natured eye-roll, and tugs one of the pots closer. “It’s tomato with basil and other green stuff. Don’t ask me, but it’s delicious despite all the healthy shit.”

“You’re too kind,” the doctor drawls sardonically from behind a cupboard door.

Anthony ignores the teasing, but he’s grinning. “So. Yeah, it’s really good. But these,” he singsongs, lifting the glass lid from the pan, “is the best part about it; meatballs.”

_Heat._

_Unbearable heat, fire._

_Blistering skin._

_Burning flesh, peeling away from his bones in black, charred chunks that-_

He hits the floor with a hiss that turns into a whine halfway through and before he can even begin to think about offering excuses or apologies, Anthony is next to him and pulling Loki’s trembling hands away from where they are yanking at his hair. Loki goes willingly when a strong arm curls around him and manoeuvres his head to press against Anthony’s shoulder, fingers digging into Anthony’s sides as he tries to recall the breathing technique JARVIS taught him this morning.

“What happened?” Anthony asks, petting a cautious hand over Loki’s head.

Loki arches into the touch greedily before moving away and straightening up, using one of the chairs for support. “Nothing. I’m sorry.”

Anthony obviously has his doubts about that and so does the doctor. Loki can’t blame them, it was a weak attempt, not even worthy to be called a proper lie. Thankfully, though, they do not pose further questions.

“Maybe no meat,” the doctor suggests, adding some of the red sauce and a few sprinkles of cheese to the plate he then hands over to Loki. “I’m not much of a fan myself.”

“Your loss,” Anthony quips, poking his tongue out at the doctor, and heaves a small mountain of the brown balls onto his own plate before drowning everything in sauce. He makes to join Ana in the sitting area but pauses at the last moment, fixing Loki with a frown. “You going to be okay? With the smell, I mean,” he says, gesturing at the food in his hand. “You can eat at the bar if it bothers you, it’s no problem.”

The bar, which is half a room away from Anthony and suddenly seems much too far a place to be all on his own. Sucking on his lip, Loki considers. Now that the unpleasant souvenir of his time under Him has passed, he feels fine albeit a little shaky still. “I would like to eat with you.”

Anthony nods and smiles softly, guiding Loki over to the sofa with a hand on the small of his back. They settle next to each other and Anthony pulls his legs up onto the furniture, folding them under himself and placing the plate in his lap. Curious, Loki mimics him and finds the position ideal not only because he can comfortably handle this food this way, but also because every now and again, when one of them reaches for a glass or napkin on the table, their knees brush. Loki finds that he does not mind that, quite the opposite in fact.

The air is soon filled with chatter related to science Loki mostly doesn’t understand but finds fascinating nonetheless and the voices of Ana’s moving pictures in the background.

Once they have finished their portions, Ana clambers up onto the arm of the sofa and Loki lifts her into his lap while Anthony, without ever interrupting his conversation, reaches out to poke her belly, making her grunt in feigned annoyance, and then absently rests his hand on Loki’s leg.

After a while, the doctor goes to fetch his bag and starts marking pages with a red pen, chuckling quietly or pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing every so often. Anthony turns his attention to the pictures and starts explaining the proceedings to Loki which earns him an irritated glare from Ana who’s only mollified when Anthony hoists her into his own lap and lets her sit upside-down with her feet on his shoulders and her hair brushing the floor.

His hand wanders from Loki’s leg to the back of the sofa and when Loki dares to lean back against it, Anthony slides his fingers into his hair and, with a content hum, Loki closes his eyes and lets his thoughts drift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked me about timelines and if/when the other Avengers are going to be joining the story, so I thought I'd give you an answer which will probably change again, but whatever. 
> 
> It's currently mid-September in the story and we won't meet the others - who will of course make an appearance - until after New Year's. So in about ten or so chapters, I think?! I can't really say, I'm just guessing here. But we'll meet Rhodey before then! And Rhodey's cool, too, right? RIGHT?


	21. Nap Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is extremely short and I’m actually kind of sorry about it. 
> 
> Over the last week I; have been to the theatre to watch Guardians of the Galaxy (twice), burned three fingers on my left hand and then poked and picked at the blisters until everything got infected (because blisters!), had three appointments with my dentist, psychiatrist and doctor, slept for a whole day after enjoying insomnia and being awake for nearly eighty hours and forgot my WIFI password (the original letter already having moved on to the afterlife long ago) so I had to make calls and shit to get a new one. 
> 
> All in all, I had a weird few days. And zero motivation to write. Oh well. I’m back and the next chapter is nearly done and longer and full of fluff. So there’s that.

**Chapter XXI - Nap Time**

* * *

“You ready for your nap, sweetheart?” Tony asks the only semi-conscious girl in his lap, lips twitching in amusement when she gives a weak moan of protest. “Not tired, huh?”

As if to prove that a nap is the absolute last things she needs, Ana shuffles to her knees, throws her arms around Tony’s neck and holds on tight, grunting a little to voice her displeasure with the whole idea. It doesn’t really have the desired effect since Tony is fairly sure she’s just dozing on his shoulder now, but oh well.

It has become a sort of routine over the last week and, being an adult and everything, Tony tends to win their little game. Even if it’s only by waiting her out and putting her to bed once she’s fallen asleep. Which _does_ count. It totally does.

“Come on, noodle,” he chuckles as he gets up, shifting the girl so he has one hand free to gather up her blankie and the toy wolf with the weird-ass name he can’t pronounce. 

Hróðvitnir looks just like a random stringing together of letters and squiggles and Tony’s actually kind of convinced that it’s exactly that. ‘Cause if it is a real name, kudos to whoever manages to say it without seriously injuring themselves in the process. The drawing with the same name scribbled across it and a helpful arrow pointing to the big black shape and saying ‘wolf’ Ana made for him still got a special place above Tony’s workbench, though. 

“Small bed or big bed?” Tony tries, having discovered that sometimes the promise of getting to sleep in his bed is enough to convince Ana to come along more or less peacefully. Fortunately, today seems to be one of those days.

In lieu of a verbal confirmation, Ana peels her face away from his shoulder and stretches a bit to smear her tiny mouth across Tony’s with all the coordination and wetness one would expect from a sleepy toddler.

Usually, it warms his shrapnel-pierced heart whenever she openly shows affection like that, especially after the rocky start they got off to. They went from Ana flinching and crying at the slightest touch to her actively seeking Tony out for snuggles and comfort in the span of only a few days and Tony preens a bit every time he thinks about it.

Now, though, he can’t help but dart an uncertain glance at Loki. He might not be the best judge when it comes to how interpersonal relationships are supposed to work, but being all cuddly and... _fatherly_ with a child in front of that child’s actual father feels distinctively awkward.

Then again, it’s hardly Tony’s fault that he’s been left to play stepdaddy for a little girl with her only other available parent being as good as comatose for a goddamned week! It isn’t like he chose any of this, pretty much the opposite, in fact. Besides, Tony is a physical kind of guy, there’s nothing wrong with that, thank you very much. Really, there’s no way Loki can blame him for adoring his daughter. And showing his emotions is important, or at least that’s what everyone keeps telling him, so there. Yeah, Tony’s in the clear. Right? Not overbearing or overstepping any boundaries that could potentially lead to another window incident or _oh shit_ , what if- 

“Breathe, Tony,” Bruce casually reminds him, sensing Tony’s growing panic despite never even taking his eyes away from his paperwork, the miracle worker.

“I-” Tony manages through a long exhale, then adds a very eloquent, “Nng.” and buries his face in Ana’s curls.

He has absolutely no idea what the fuck he’s doing.

Deciding that hiding behind a little girl - quite literally, actually - probably won’t solve anything, Tony looks back up at Loki who is watching them with an expression caught somewhere between confused and completely uncomprehending. Which is definitely preferable to angry or irritated or murderous and to be expected, Tony supposes, after his almost freak-out.

“So,” he says sheepishly and clears his throat as he wills his brain back into working order. Nap time, right. “Do you want to put her down? Or, eh, I don’t know, I can do it, I guess. Whatever you want.”

Loki opens his mouth, then thinks better of it and shuts it again, brows furrowing. After another moment of silence he cautiously ventures, “Your offer is very kind, though I am afraid your assistance is not necessary. Ana is perfectly able to complete this task by herself, you need not burden yourself with it.”

“Yeah, I know I don’t have to-“ Tony begins, cutting himself off and frowning. He turns his head to see Bruce observing quietly, but the man just shrugs a little, being annoyingly unhelpful. “I know that she can get herself to bed on her own, but that’s not really the point here, you know?”

Going by the bewildered blinking, Loki does _not_ know.

Tony is already gearing up to demand if he’s never tucked his daughter in like a parent is supposed to do - and hey, even Tony knows that much - when realisation hits him; it is entirely possible that Loki hasn’t, what with the slave thing and all. _Shit._

Cringing at the reminder of just how fucked up the two aliens’ last few years must have been, Tony takes a few steps closer to where Loki’s still sitting on the sofa, motioning for him to take Ana. “Together. We’ll do it together, okay? Come on.”

At that, Loki snaps to attention, jumping up and pulling Ana out of his arms so fast Tony has half a mind to ask him if he’s trying to give himself whiplash. He manages to stop himself when he sees the look on Loki’s face, scared and waiting for something-

“Shit, no. No!” Tony winces, lightly touching the fingers of one of his now free hands to Loki’s forearm as he scowls down at the stupid magic shackles he knows are there under his sweatpants. “Not like that. Shit, sorry. You’re free to go wherever to you want in the penthouse for now. And about everything else we can talk, all right? I’ll give you the full tour later, training rooms, infirmary, labs and all.”

Loki can’t quite hide his relief, although he tries, and rests his cheek against Ana’s head after giving a quick nod.

Tony smiles back at him in what he hopes is a reassuring fashion and brushes his thumb over the delicate pale skin one more time before turning toward the hall. It’s no surprise at all when he feels Loki’s fingers curl around his wrist and hold on.

They nearly walk into the wrong room since Tony’s gotten used to staying in the guest room - or, rather, Loki’s room now - while Loki was unconscious in his bed. The prospect of sleeping in his own bed again has Tony grin happily to himself. Not that there’s anything wrong with the guest bed, only the best for everyone if Tony has any say, but he’s a creature of habit and has missed what is his.

Ana begins to fuss when Tony takes her through to the ensuite bathroom to brush her teeth, a concept she didn’t seem to be familiar with at all when she first came here and still is no fan of. Washing her face goes marginally better and Tony silently thanks himself for not telling her to change out of her pyjamas this morning which saves him another two minutes and a discussion as to why she can’t sleep in a dress and boots now.

Loki is perched on the edge of the mattress once they re-enter the bedroom, Ana crawling over to him and starting to tug at his sleeve the moment Tony sets her down on the bed. The two men share a hesitant but fondly amused glance over her head as she plays dictator until everything and everyone is arranged to her liking.

Tony reaches for the Stark Pad on the bedside table, scrolling through the eBooks he and Ana downloaded to the one they’re currently reading. Biting at his lower lip, he offers it to Loki. “You wanna read to her?”

“Ana can read rather well,” Loki informs him, sounding equal parts proud and puzzled as he takes the pad and, after a moment of familiarising himself with the device, taps the screen to open the selected book.

“Again, not the point,” Tony says mildly, pushing a pillow under his head and lifting his arm for Ana who rolls right under it, back pressed to Tony’s front as she expectantly peers up at her father.

Between Tony petting a hand over her curly head and Loki’s deep, smooth voice talking quietly, it takes no time for Ana to drop off.

Tony only realises he’s done the same when he wakes up to the startling sensation of Loki’s emerald eyes fixed on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, we’re back to cliffhangers, how about that? Don’t worry, the next chapter picks up right where this one left off. And, as mentioned at the beginning, there’s fluff. Loads of it. A shitload, I think.
> 
> Now, Hróðvitnir. As some of you probably know, this is one of the names of the wolf Fenrir, son of Loki. Which brings us to the topic of Loki’s children. I can say right now that this particular subject will be completely different from mythology in virtually every aspect. No, seriously, I’m twisting everything to my liking. 
> 
> Ana is Loki’s only child in the sense of two parents equalling offspring, meaning Loki hasn’t fathered (or mothered... yeah, I know, wrong word, shut up) any other children. He has, however, sired/conjured the wolf Fenrir, the steed Sleipnir and the serpent Jörmungandr who all feature in this story (in passing or recollection) in their animal forms. And, as you can probably tell by my choice of words, there was magic involved. As for Hela, Váli and Narfi, they all exist and are known to Loki through their respective mothers. There is no relation between Loki and them, though.
> 
> And yes, I promise this will all become clearer as the story (or stories, most likely) goes on. 
> 
> Also, a quick not to Loki’s relationship with Ana. He clearly loves and adores her but I think, given the situation, he would be a bit at a loss as to how to interact with her. Then there is the fact that Loki himself grew up as a prince, meaning his parents, king and queen, were not available for things such as storytelling. Not out of spite or disinterest, but looking at our medieval royal families I don’t think their offspring was the most warmly cared for. If you know what I mean. 
> 
> Carry on. 
> 
> (My notes this time are longer than the actual chapter, aren’t they? Shit.)


	22. Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fucking chapter, I swear. Ugh. It just didn’t want to come out the way I wanted it to. It literally (yes!) tried to kill me. I should call the police and have it arrested. 
> 
> But it’s the longest so far, so we got that going for us, right? 
> 
> Okay, let’s do this! WOO! 
> 
> (Chapter title is stolen from this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUqCv_1kGzM) from the Rocky Horror (Picture) show and if you don't know what that is I am very disappointed in you, okay?)

**Chapter XXII - Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me**

* * *

“That’s not creepy _at all_ ,” Tony drawls sarcastically, arching a pointed eyebrow at his staring bunk buddy. 

Sometime during their - a glance at the clock - one hour nap, Ana must have woken and decided to leave the two boringly unconscious men in favour of more adventurous pursuits. Which sleeping Tony apparently took as an invitation to sprawl out all over the place and very much into Loki’s personal space. Oops.

Bringing his gaze back up from checking on their little absentee, Tony finds Loki wide-eyed and shaking, the hand not currently folded under his head and the pillow fluttering aimlessly in what looks suspiciously like a could-be panic attack.

“No, hey, none of that,” Tony is fast to say, reaching out to grab the out-of-control limb and gently guide it back down to the bed. “I’m joking, Bambi, it’s fine. You’re good.”

Loki swallows hard and nods, but his expression stays wary and suspicious. He does turn over his hand so he can curl his fingers around Tony’s wrist, however, so Tony does the same and lightly rubs his thumb back and forth across Loki’s arm.

And now they’re practically holding hands in bed, Tony realises, and no, he’s not going to blush because he is not a hormone-driven teenager who gets excited over some completely innocent gesture coming from a man who definitely isn’t interested in _that_ anytime soon and even if he were it probably wouldn’t be with Tony and he doesn’t actually know if Loki even goes for men or what.

Right. Deep breath, Tony.

This is nothing. Well, not nothing, it’s a crush and a fairly serious one at that, but still just a crush. He doesn’t know Loki, Tony reminds himself, they’ve met once before under less than stellar circumstances while one of them was kind of mind-controlled and trying to invade Earth and the other doing his best to prevent exactly that from happening. They were on enemy sides of that whole shebang, they were fighting each other. Like, all out war-fighting, not arguing-fighting.

Sure, Loki is ridiculously, sinfully gorgeous with his mile-long legs and pouty mouth and-

No. Okay. Wow. Bad train of thought. _Inappropriate_ train of thought.

So, Loki is not bad-looking and super smart and even funny in a dark, villainous sort of way and Tony has definitely slept with people because of less but that’s not the point. The point is that Tony is a grown-ass man who has control over his libido and won’t make advances on someone given into his care after years of torture and abuse.

And yep, that very effectively puts a damper on things.

Whoever the Loki Tony got to meet five years ago was, that man is long gone, displaced by a beaten and broken version of himself. By someone who’s depending on Tony in nearly every sense of the word, someone who has been reduced to a shadow of his former self and has absolutely nothing left, not even his damned free will.

The budding excitement about finding himself in bed with a beautiful man his still sleep-addled brain thought to conjure is beginning to get replaced by that fierce protectiveness Tony’s come to associate with his two alien guests. That, and an almost terrifying amount of righteous anger.

He’ll have to write a list of people that deserve a repulsor-powered punch in the throat, starting with Ana’s father for pretty obvious reasons and ending with Odin Allfather himself, because who the fuck lets their own son be sold into slavery?

“Eh,” Tony croaks dumbly, awkwardly clearing his throat when he realises he’s just kind of gaping at Loki in the most unattractive manner imaginable with his mouth hanging open and everything.

“Are you all right, Anthony?” Loki asks shyly, hesitantly, his face scrunching up in confused concern.

“Yeah, fine. Don’t worry,” Tony laughs quietly, shutting his eyes and shaking his head at himself and this unbelievably complicated clusterfuck his life has decided to turn into without ever asking for his opinion on the matter. Which is just rude.

He’s _the_ Tony Stark, he can absolutely do this. Ana not only survived but also thrived under his care and only about twelve percent of the credit for that go to Bruce. Tops. Maybe fifteen. But no more!

Besides, Loki is an adult. All Tony has to do is give him food and a shelter and find a way to nullify that stupid contract and work through a mountain of issues so he can help Loki work through his even bigger mountain of issues and yeah. He’s so totally, royally fucked.

“So, bedtime stories,” he muses, stubbornly ignoring the fact that he’s in way over his head here and hoping, against all odds, that it’ll somehow sort itself out over time. It _could_ happen. It’s not likely, but it could. “Not a big thing where you come from or what?”

Loki lowers his eyes, biting at his bottom lip, and Tony doesn’t really expect an answer anymore when he suddenly begins to explain, “My nursemaid would sometimes reminisce about the events of the day at court while assisting me with my evening tasks.”

“Yeah, but don’t you have stories? For kids? Fairytales and fiction and the like?” Tony demands somewhat incredulously. He was a nanny kid, too, what with his parents gone more often than not. There would have been massive tantrums, though, had the ever changing litany of women not entertained him - which might have had more to do with him being a spoilt brat than anything else, but still. Treasure Island was important business, thank you very much.

Besides, even Howard the Mostly Indifferent with his many, many, _many_ faults sometimes lifted Tony into his lap and just talked for hours on end. Granted, he had to be in one of his rare generous moods, otherwise all the begging in the world wouldn’t make him budge, but whenever it happened, it was the most awesome thing to Tony. It’s how he learned all about the adventures of Captain America and the Howling Commandoes - what he wouldn’t give to see Howard’s reaction to both Steve and Bucky still being alive - and got his first lessons in engineering and theoretical physics. Good times.

“Idling about was not appreciated,” Loki says with a dismissive shrug of his free shoulder. “The servants did not have the time or interest to play games with a child.”

That’s just sad, Tony thinks but doesn’t say. Instead, he shifts his hand a little and squeezes when Loki automatically laces their fingers together.

“I used to sneak down into the kitchens after dark in search for adventure, however,” Loki goes on and Tony definitely sees the tiny smile on his face now. Small victories. “One of the cooks would let me sit on at the table while he made preparations for the morning meal. He told tales of his travels to all the different realms and always made sure my pockets were full of sweets before he sent me back to my chambers.”

“Sounds nice,” Tony comments mildly and Loki gives an absent nod, clearly lost in memories. “What about your mom, though? It’s just, whenever Thor talks about her, he makes her seem like the most wonderful-“

“I have no mother,” Loki mumbles dejectedly and averts his eyes, gazing mournfully at a completely uninteresting patch of blanket as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the entire universe.

Tony would slap himself if he had a free hand to do so. He really thought the God Mother was a safe bet, going by the way Thor had gone on about her during his last visit.

‘She loves us both fiercely, make no mistake, my friend,’ Thor had smiled adoringly, the big old mama’s boy, ‘but she always preferred Loki’s calm demeanour over my rougher and wilder nature. Less damaged furniture,’ he’d laughed happily.

Apparently, opinions are deeply divided on the issue. Damn. So much for cheering Loki up a bit. Next time he’ll just go with mint chocolate chip ice cream, ‘cause if that doesn’t work, nothing will.

“Okay, I get it; family is a taboo subject. Sorry,” Tony backpedals, brushing his thumb over Loki’s knuckles to get his attention, and shoots him an apologetic smile when he looks back up. “Sorry. I thought it’d be- no, you know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything. We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. In fact, we don’t have to talk at all. I’ll shut up now. And I’m real sorry. Okay, now.”

If he didn’t know better, Tony would insist he sees a hint of amusement flicker over Loki’s face while he babbles away. But it passes before he has the chance to mention it, chased away by a frown.

“You spoke to my br-“ Loki begins only to cut himself off and continue with, “to Thor recently? Was he sent to oversee the signing of the contract?”

“What? No!” Tony exclaims in surprise, then comes to the belated realisation that Loki has no way of knowing what happened with his not-brother while he was being held in Elf Land. “I was freaking out when you and Ana were dropped off and figured the only one who maybe knows some of what the fuck is going on would be Thor. So I tried contacting him and it turned out he was here on Earth all along and more than happy to pop over for a chat.”

“He was visiting his woman?” Loki guesses reasonably, searching Tony’s face for confirmation.

“Well. More like permanently living with Jane in New Mexico than visiting, I’d say, but yeah, he was with her,” Tony shrugs, chuckling a little at the scandalised look that earns him. “I think he had a bit of a falling out with the Alldaddy after your, eh, after you were sent away.” Smooth, Tony. “He was urged to take a break from Asgard or something and moved in with Jane. Oh, they’re expecting, by the way.”

Loki’s features soften at that, although he seems somewhat conflicted and his “I am very happy to hear that.” sounds strained and faintly bitter.

Fair enough, Tony figures, especially after how Ana came to be in Loki’s life. He may not be sure how exactly to treat his newfound freedom of choice concerning him and his daughter yet, but the guy’s been awake for a day and he clearly loves his little girl, so who’s Tony to judge? It’s not like he’s an expert in child-rearing, he’s basically just spoiling her rotten and doing what feels right and, well, so far so good. No major incidents if everyone would _please_ just disregard that one time Ana ate a whole jar of Nutella while Tony got distracted with some suit calculations on his pad.

“He seems excited,” Tony offers vaguely, unsure as to what’s the appropriate thing to say about a kind-of-friend’s pregnant girlfriend in general, but also mindful as to how Loki’s going to react if he’s too enthusiastic about his brother - or whatever - and Jane’s white picket fence life.

“Yes, I imagine he is,” Loki hums distractedly, attempting to formulate another question, by the looks of it. He pulls back his hand, but before Tony has the chance to be disappointed, Loki presses the pads of their fingers together and fans them out, then brings them back together again, fidgety and nervous. “Where is Thor now?” he asks meekly, as if he isn’t expecting to be answered. Or to be punished for asking in the first place?

Tony can’t be sure, but since neither is an option, he takes the only logical course of action and simply replies honestly. “Back in Asgard, delivering a few choice words to Odin. He was pretty upset, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that particular dressing-down.”

Loki’s brows knit together at that and he tilts his head as much as possible in his currently horizontal position. “He was upset... to be sent back to Asgard?” he guesses, completely clueless, and everything finally clicks together in Tony’s head.

Loki has absolutely no idea how devastating the events after the failed invasion were for Thor, how distraught but also guilty the thunderer felt upon seeing him again and how furious and uncharacteristically pissed he was at his father. He genuinely doesn’t know that Thor cares about him to a fault. 

Which makes everything so much worse. Tony can’t even begin to understand how that, on top of everything else, must have been like for Loki. To be convinced your whole family abandoned you, that they threw you aside as if you were a piece of trash, a mere nuisance, getting the confirmation of what you already suspected for literal centuries; that you are not worthy to be loved by the ones who are supposed to love you no matter what.

Alone and defenceless amongst people sought out to hurt and humiliate you for the sheer joy of it.

And all that for actions that, according to Thor’s recollection of things, had mostly been out of Loki’s control.

Were he not a semi-serious alcoholic with a stomach of steel, Tony’d be sick right about now.

“Thor cried,” he croaks around the lump in his throat, making Loki’s fingers freeze mid-motion. “We sat by this bed together and he cried for you, Loki.”

All Loki manages in response is rapid, owlish blinking, so Tony presses on.

“Look, I probably don’t know half the shit that went down between the two of you and I don’t claim that he’s always been a decent brother and friend, but Thor loves you. Like, so much it makes him stupid sometimes. Also, please don’t throw me out of another window for having said this,” he tries to joke, sobering again when it falls flat.

“Throw you out of a window?” Loki repeats as if _that_ was the important bit Tony wanted to stress there, his face blank and suspiciously devoid of any and all remembrance of such an event.

“Uh, yeah?” Tony ventures, thrown for a loop by the other’s strange reaction. “You know, breaking into my penthouse, mutual threats, I offer you a drink, insult you a little and you throw me through reinforced glass which, by the way, _ouch_.”

Loki’s expression goes from horrified to mortified while Tony speaks, eventually settling somewhere between the two with a generous dose of terror thrown - shit, bad word choice - into the mix.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t _you_ you who did that. At least I think it wasn’t. I’m not entirely clear on all the magic stuff and you’re not listening, are you?” Tony finishes, disentangling his hand to worriedly cup an unresponsive Loki’s cheek.

Great. He broke a Norse deity. Only him.

After only a couple of seconds, though, Loki comes back online with a gasp that turns into a broken-off sob somewhere along the line. “I am so sorry,” Loki breathes brokenly, sniffling a little against the rapidly accumulating tears. “I-“ he chokes, flinching away from Tony’s hand as if burned. “I am sorry, please, I-“

On a whim, Tony gathers Loki against himself and wraps his arms around the trembling body, proven right in his suspicions that the fleeing was born out of instinct rather than actual fear of Tony when Loki immediately burrows closer. He drapes a leg over both of Tony’s and an arm over his waist, free hand curling into Tony’s shirt as he tucks his head under the engineer’s chin.

“It’s okay, Bambi, it’s fine,” Tony soothes, running one hand up and down Loki’s back while he slowly rocks them, hushing the crying man and whispering reassuring nothings until the shaking stops and Loki’s breathing evens out once more.

“Sorry,” Loki mumbles, voice muffled against the skin of Tony’s neck, and practically melts into their embrace even as he tightens his hold on Tony as if he’s afraid he is about to be sent away.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony assures and weaves his fingers into long, raven hair, smiling when the motion has Loki sigh, go even more boneless and then give a slightly bashful hum. He can’t help but wonder, however, so he chances a careful, “Did you only just remember that? The window thing?”

Loki shifts some, obviously uncomfortable. “Yes,” he admits, hesitating for a moment when his moving around brings his hand into contact with the Arc Reactor.

Tony stills, too, and is about to squirm away because _hello_ , previously crazy God having his paws on the one thing keeping his heart from being shredded to bits and pieces. It’s not as if it were only former enemies who aren’t allowed to touch, there’s a reason why he does all maintenance himself and makes sure to be safely locked away in his workshop for it.

They aren’t trust issues if someone actually did rip the damned thing out of your chest once, okay? It’s called being precautious and yes, Tony does know that word, no need to get snippy about it.

But all Loki does is splay his fingers across the glass surface and apply the barest amount of pressure - Tony can tell by the minute change in the reactor’s vibrations - before relaxing again, seemingly content with things. It’s somewhat hard to tell without having any actual feeling in the area, but Tony’s fairly sure Loki’s petting the ugly lump of metal wrenched into his sternum.

“It helped, yes?” he reasons, “To prevent to spell from taking a hold?”

“Uh, I don’t have a clue how that... spell? How it was supposed to work but yeah, I guess it did.”

“Good,” Loki decides with a nod of finality, possessively keeping his hand where it is as he moves to close the last of the nonexistent distance between the two of them to tuck his face back into the crook of Tony’s neck.

After a moment of surprised immobility, Tony resumes his stroking.

“The memories are all there, I believe,” Loki sighs shakily and Tony, after getting over the fact that he’s receiving an actual explanation for some of the crap he’s been wondering about for half a decade, turns his head to rest his cheek on top of Loki’s head as, he hopes, encouragement to go on. “Certain words or phrases and even sounds or smells will sometimes bring me back to a situation I previously thought lost and forgotten.”

“Flashbacks,” Tony provides, recognising the signs all too well. Not a fun thing, he knows, pulling a face at the mere thought of his worst times after Afghanistan and his space portal stunt.

“My mind was not my own in many regards, although from what I understand, I was not entirely consumed by Him,” Loki continues and Tony itches to ask about the mysterious _Him_ , only holding himself back because he doesn’t want to accidentally trigger another episode or stop Loki from sharing. Sharing is good, all the psychiatrists he only ever went to once before dismissing them agreed on that one. “He chose me for my unique skills and I am positive that I could have done much more damage had I tried harder. My orders were vague. There was only a general objective without much further direction as to how to achieve that goal. If I go searching for it, there is a hint of smugness at having made His quest fail, even if I still cannot recall most of my time under His control.”

Tony can’t help it, he has to laugh at that. “Yeah, some of us figured you were manipulating both sides in order to fuck things up. Thanks for that, much appreciated.”

They lapse into comfortable silence until Tony suddenly puts two and two together. “Hey, if you don’t remember all that invasion stuff, how come you recognised Bruce and me?”

“Your doctor’s rough treatment severed the connection I had with Him. I came to in the midst of our fight, unsure as to where I was or what I had done to find myself there. All things from before that point are hazy at best, everything after is clear again,” Loki says easily as if that isn’t some insane, fucked up shit right there.

The man woke up getting beaten to a pulp, probably confused as hell, and then the Avengers, the supposed heroes, sent him away to get put on trial, ridiculed, tortured and raped. They hadn’t known, of course, neither about the mind-control nor about Loki’s fate, but still. The thought that Tony was at least partially responsible for any of that is not a nice one.

“Damn,” Tony curses eloquently, hiding his face away in Loki’s hair. “Fuck.”

“It’s quite all right,” Loki insists, but Tony is having none of that.

He squeezes the arms he has around Loki and vehemently shakes his head. “It’s really not, Bambi.”

This time around, the silence that follows is tense and loaded. It’s Loki who breaks it once again, thankfully with a complete change of topic. “Do you- is there a possibility Thor would be willing to see me? When- when he- upon his return from Asgard?”

“Sure, yeah,” Tony answers immediately, willing his stupidly sentimental heart - and when had that happened? - not to break at the doubt and insecurity audible in Loki’s question. “He’ll be thrilled to see you, I promise. The only reason he didn’t stay was ‘cause he wanted to find out why you’re here, on Earth, and-“

“Ana,” Loki murmurs and cringes, at the topic or the fact that he interrupted, Tony isn’t sure. He rubs a soothing hand over Loki’s shoulders nevertheless. “My previous contract was quite specific concerning the sort of duties I ought to be assigned. The... activities resulting in my daughter were not among them-“

“Oh God, _fuck_ -“

“-or so I overheard when we were retrieved.” He wriggles a bit and Tony lifts his chin for Loki to press closer. “I do not know how the information reached Asgard or why you were chosen as my new master, however.”

Suddenly overwhelmed by the last half hour’s conversation, Tony cups the back of Loki’s head and presses a kiss to his forehead, the only way to offer his sympathies and comfort he can think of. Then he freezes when he feels Loki go very still next to him, silently cursing himself in all eleven languages he knows. Including Klingon.

He makes to jump up, apologies on the tip of his tongue, but Loki clings, eyes desperate from where they peek up at him. “Stay, please.”

“Do you want me to?” Tony demands, a little disbelieving.

“Ye-es.”

“Not convincing, Bambi,” Tony sighs, but settles back down. Loki immediately shuffles closer again and reburies his face in Tony’s chest. “You know you can tell me to piss off, right? You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever. Not even if you think it’s something I want, it doesn’t matter. It’s always your choice, no matter what, okay?”

“Yes, so you said. And you took off the collar,” Loki nods seriously and actually graces Tony with a shy but sincere smile that almost makes the engineer forget about-

“The collar? What does that have to do with anything? Was it- tell me that thing wasn’t magic, too? I just threw it in the trash, for fuck’s sake!”

“It rewards obedience and good behaviour,” Loki mumbles uncertainly around the thumbnail he’s brought up to his mouth to bite on. “And pleasing one’s master.”

Tony groans at that, flopping backward on the bed. Loki follows, pillowing his head on Tony’s biceps and lightly putting his hand over the Arc Reactor again.

“Magical Stockholm syndrome, that’s just great. Wonderful, marvellous, spectacular,” Tony sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Is that why you’re all touchy-feely?”

“Should I leave?” Loki sounds like that’s the last thing he wants to do, still sitting up to bring some space between them, though.

“Okay, listen.” Tony takes a deep breath, propping himself up on his elbows. “I’m totally okay with this, I understand the need for some closeness after... difficult times. It’s perfectly natural. Hell, I spent more than a few nights crashing in my BFF’s bed after... after I went through some stuff. So, yeah, I really get it. But I need to know that you’re doing this because _you want it_ , not because you think you have to do it or because were conditioned into thinking you want this or whatever.”

Loki stares at him for several seconds, eyes flickering over his face before he looks away, cheeks now tinted a rosy pink. “It is... nice,” he admits, so very obviously embarrassed and bewildered by the concept of some simple human contact that Tony automatically reaches out toward him and finds himself with an armful of Norse God a moment later.

“And I like it,” Loki confesses through a yawn as he lowers himself down until he has his head back under the engineers chin, a leg wedged under Tony’s and one hand on what’s now apparently his spot on the reactor.

“Okay, then,” Tony huffs amusedly and noses the hair tickling his face out of the way. “You tired? Wanna go back to sleep?”

“We only just woke,” Loki points out but doesn’t protest the blanket Tony tugs over their legs.

“You’re officially on sick leave, you can sleep the whole fucking day if you want to,” Tony counters, only too happy to get a few more hours in with Loki more or less draped over him. Life could be worse right now. “JayJay?”

_“Sir?”_

“What is the little rascal up to?”

_“Miss Ana is assisting Doctor Banner with food preparations and there is talk of playing UNO afterward.”_

“A worthy pastime,” Tony decides and Loki remembers to add a polite “Thank you!” because contrary to Tony, he seems to have manners. Oh well.

“So, you wanna hear the story of how your daughter set a bunch of stuff on fire?” Tony grins and waggles his brows at the shocked deity, sliding his finger back into Loki’s hair for some more scratching as he relates their encounter with the paparazzi.

By the end of it, Loki is barely awake due to Tony’s ministrations and his still generally weakened state, but he manages to snort and mumble something about ‘unsupervised magic is incredibly dangerous’ and ‘that big, stupid oaf’ and ‘what are cinnamon rolls?’ before dozing off.

Tony only takes the time to pull the blankets up higher and then joins him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious conversations must be had while cuddling or being black-out drunk. Or both. They’re not mutually exclusive. 
> 
> So, enough fluff? I think so. They spent the whole chapter in bed, what do you guys even want from me? GAWD! 
> 
> Also, if you thought Loki’s transition from being scared shitless to practically using Tony as a big teddy was somewhat fast; yes, it was. That was intentional (I know, that’s what authors always say) on my part. At the moment, Loki is really only going by A) what he thinks Tony will want him to do because he likes Tony and doesn’t want to be sent away and B) what feels good because nothing has felt good for ages and why the hell not? Incidentally, what feels good (cuddling the life out of Tony) is actually something Tony fully approves of. So, good times for everybody. At least for a little while. 
> 
> And, last and actually also least, who told Asgard about Ana and, therefore, “saved” Loki? It is a character you guys know and no, you won’t guess who it was. I think. It’s somewhat random but I liked the idea so here we are. I JUST LOVE TEASING YOU SO MUCH I HAVE ISSUES OKAY? 
> 
> Okay. See ya!


	23. Please and Thank You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a chapter in which Loki does everything in his limited power to make Tony want to keep him around. Then, next time, have a chapter in which Tony tries to prevent Loki from doing anything because Loki needs to heal and relax and deserves to be pampered. 
> 
> Also called the two chapters of miscommunication and talking past each other. Or not really talking at all. Whatever. There’s fluff, too. And Bruce acting as the voice of reason and Ana demanding cuddles and sweets.

**Chapter XXIII - Please and Thank You**

* * *

He is given no chores or duties which, while no doubt refreshing and restful, causes Loki to be permanently tense and wary.

Asking Anthony if he requires assistance only ever results in being told to ‘just chill and relax’ and Anthony’s expression turning terribly sad. Loki stops trying pretty quickly.

And the small tasks he could take care of without instruction seem to be assigned already; there are machines doing the cleaning, meals are brought in from elsewhere fully prepared most days and the washing falls through holes in the bottom of the hampers and appears cleaned and folded in the front hall a day or two later.

All in all, Loki feels absolutely redundant and that scares him near senseless.

***

The first time he is left alone with the doctor, JARVIS rouses him at the usual hour to relay the message that Anthony had an emergency concerning his business and went to ‘deal with that fucking shit even though it’s fucking Saturday and that’s _so_ not fair’.

 _“I would like to stress my disapproval of Sir’s choice of words, but he was very insistent that I repeat them accordingly,”_ the computer says crisply, making Loki chuckle to himself.

He rather enjoys JARVIS’ sharp wit and dry sense of humour, Loki thinks with a small smile as he gets up to start his morning routine, straightening out his sheets and blankets and tucking them back in at the corners.

Keeping his space neat and tidy is the least he can do in an attempt to stay in Anthony’s good graces.

_“Doctor Banner has asked me to let you know that you are welcome to join him for breakfast, sir.”_

Loki’s hands falter for a moment, then he continues fluffing the pillows and tugging the comforter into place.

The doctor, or Bruce, as he insists on being called, has been nothing but courteous and polite toward Loki in the days since he woke from his forced sleep. He is efficient during Loki’s medical examinations, always gentle and careful not to cause any undue discomfort and only posing questions relating to Loki’s treatment.

Loki, though, has been researching him on the flat reading device Anthony had gifted him with, accompanied by a shrewd grin and the hint to not let anyone know about his granted access to Anthony’s ‘server’ and all the information Midgard has about Loki’s failed invasion.

‘It’s only fair that you know what the hell happened while you weren’t you,’ Anthony had said with a small shrug before sprawling across the sofa next to Loki and proceeding to explain a thing called ‘the internet’, giggling at Loki’s horrified face when he tricked him into accidentally venturing into the less tasteful parts of the world wide web.

In another long lost life, Loki would definitely have appreciated the man’s enormous mischievous streak.

As it is, however, Loki has not yet found the courage to open the files pertaining his involvement in the attempted overtaking and enslaving of the human race, instead restricting himself to learning more about Anthony’s ragtag group of warriors, all of whom Loki has come to realise are truly astonishing individuals in their very own and unique ways.

Including the doctor. Incredibly gifted in his field of expertise, passionate about it, and made a social outcast by the consequences of his work. A tragic fate Loki is intimately familiar with, can sympathise with even. The study and practice of magic have made Loki a pariah at an uncomfortably young age, branded him a coward for choosing a way of fighting which is more tactical than simply confrontational, and left him without a connection to his peers.

He feels of the doctor as an ally of sorts after gaining this information, although not enough of one to entirely quench all his fears concerning the man.

“Is Ana with Doctor Banner?” Loki asks as he moves to the bathing chamber, making himself presentable having become an important and highly efficient tool in his quest for Anthony’s acceptance of Loki’s presence in his home and life.

He watches himself in the mirror for a moment while he considers different styles before deciding on a loose plait that ends up draped over his shoulder and resting on his chest. His hair is longer than he can remember ever having it before, reaching his lower back when unbraided, and Loki quite likes it despite what it implies about his position in the Stark household.

Anthony seems fond of it as well. He often slides his fingers into Loki’s hair when they sit close, unaware of the satisfied hum he utters while doing so, and plays with the strands or lightly scratches over Loki’s scalp in an absent-minded gesture while he reads or works or they watch the television together with Ana.

That Loki enjoys the sensation is inconsequential yet valued highly. Providing Anthony with services he cares for and Loki does not mind carrying out makes this whole endeavour far less troublesome than it could be.

And if Loki selfishly basks in the positive attention bestowed upon his person, well, nobody has to be the wiser about that.

 _“No, sir,”_ JARVIS interrupts his musings, _“Miss Ana was persistent in her demand to be taken on an outing. I believe Sir plans on a trip to Starbucks after collecting his papers from the Brooklyn office.”_

Loki doesn’t even hesitate anymore in his, “Starbucks, please?”

JARVIS has been most helpful with adjusting to Midgard and all its strange terms and customs so far. Loki had been shy to ask for clarification at first, fleeing back to his appointed chamber in shame whenever he hadn’t understood something being said to him, pulling out his Stark Pad, as Anthony calls it, to go search for definitions and explanations.

Until JARVIS had answered to a query Loki was muttering mostly to himself and started their amiable back and forth about all things new and unfamiliar to Loki.

_“An American global coffee company and coffeehouse chain whose Caramel Macchiato Sir has developed a somewhat worrying addiction to over the years.”_

Both the doctor and JARVIS keep reprimanding Anthony about his caffeine intake, Loki knows from overhearing their worried chiding. Anthony usually returns that caffeine is preferable to alcohol which tends to stop all protests before they can evolve into real arguments.

 _“Sir left in a hurry this morning, otherwise I’m sure he would have asked if you were amenable to accompanying him,”_ JARVIS continues, causing Loki to blush with the suggestion that he has any right to hope for such a thing as being treated to restaurant visits. _“Do you wish me to let Sir know about your preferences and bring you back a beverage or pastry, sir?”_

“No!” Loki almost shouts and steps back into the main chamber, opening the wardrobe as he attempts to simultaneously select an outfit Anthony will be pleased with and calm his frayed nerves. It is not his place to make demands of Anthony. “That won’t be necessary, JARVIS, thank you.”

_“Of course, sir.”_

“I will accept Doctor Banner’s breakfast invitation, however.”

_“Very well, sir. He is preparing the meal in the penthouse kitchen as we speak and looks forward to your company.”_

Loki severely doubts this, but nevertheless thanks the computer as he lays out his clothing and begins to strip. The tight black trousers, skinny jeans, he has been told, remind him of the leathers he used to wear for centuries and the dark green shirt with the collar cut in a low V resembles the traditional casual garb of Asgard. The combination is Loki’s favourite and he wears it as often as possible since Anthony passed a comment about how he thinks the ensemble looks good on Loki.

He makes haste to get dressed, not wanting to anger the doctor by making him wait, and enters the common area just as two steaming plates are set on the bar.

“Morning,” the doctor greets and yawns, shuffling over to the fridge to get them drinks while Loki slides onto a stool.

“Good morning,” he returns politely, fishing the little bottle with his medication out from the basket containing all of Anthony’s pills and tablets as well - the basket Loki strongly suspects is only here, out in the open for everyone to see, to encourage him and make him less anxious about taking his own medication - and shakes two capsules into his palm.

He refused the offer to take anything against the remaining and perfectly manageable pain, having shown an embarrassing amount of weakness already in the first few days after waking up by breaking down, physically and emotionally, on several occasions. The antibiotics, which the doctor explained are to fight the infection from the wounds on his back, Loki doesn’t mind, dutifully taking two of them every morning with his meal.

“Here,” the doctor says, putting a glass and two cartons of juice in front of Loki. “Don’t swallow them dry, it’s not good for your throat. Orange or cranberry?”

“Cranberry, please.”

The doctor never orders Loki around, he instead makes a limited offer of two or three choices tailored to whatever situation they find themselves in, effectively preventing Loki from floundering helplessly and awkwardly at the prospect of doing the wrong thing.

Contrary to Anthony, who goes out of his way to accommodate him. Loki doesn’t understand why and it frightens him.

Medication dealt with, Loki pulls his plate and fork closer, surprised to see an as of yet unfamiliar dish. He looks over at the doctor with wide eyes.

“Thalipeeth,“ the man hums around a mouthful of his own. “It’s Indian. Lots of different flours, basically. Jowar, rice, bajra, wheat. Spices, too. Eh, chilli, coriander, cumin, garam masala, turmeric. Chickpeas and some chopped onions, garlic and grated jaggery. It’s vegetarian but not for everyone,” he admits sheepishly, pointing a hand over his shoulder. “There’s still some yoghurt or muesli, if you don’t like it.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Loki reassures him with a timid smile and finds that it absolutely is.

Cooking is a hobby of the doctor’s, he’s come to realise. Anthony freely admits to being ‘total shit’ at it. Loki found the process of turning separate ingredients into a complementary fusion of tastes to be calming once upon a time but refrained from pursuing his interest when Thor’s friends began making fun of the ‘womanly’ craft.

They eat in comfortable silence apart from the doctor’s occasional inquiry as to Loki’s general wellbeing and the state of his wounds specifically.

After they finish and Loki has gotten a “Go ahead.” from the doctor, he takes everything to the sink to rinse and put away in the dishwasher as he’s seen the other man do before. He’s shown where to insert the colourful packets the doctor tells him are filled with soap, and how to start the machine and the cleaning process.

He swells with what he believes to be pride at the whirring sound of the washer and bashfully ducks his head when he’s praised with a “Well done.”

Loki contributed to the running of the household by aiding the doctor and the sensation that earns him is most rewarding, easing some of the ever-present tension in his back and starting to dissolve the acidic ball of fear in his belly.

“So, eh, I was planning on some light workout,” the doctor says, nodding at the cleared space next to the sofa where Loki sees a flat rectangle woven out of thin, wooden branches. “You up to give it a go?”

The doctor’s exercise is similar to a form of meditation used to achieve a trance state needed for certain spells, Loki finds out as he sits on a second mat and observes and tries to mimic the other’s movements.

It is mostly breathing patterns not unlike the one JARVIS taught him during his panic that the doctor guides him through, his rumbling voice coupled with the low music in the background soothing Loki to an extent where he stops obsessively watching the man for any signs of the Green Beast about to make an appearance.

And he merely pats his pocket once or twice to make sure he did not forget the phone Anthony gave him for emergencies. There isn’t much Anthony could do should the beast decide to come out, but the knowledge that the device is there is a comfort nonetheless.

Loki is reduced into an unwound, boneless state when they finish which the doctor recognises and chuckles at as he extends a hand to help him stand.

Accepting, Loki pulls and immediately experiences a nasty twinge in his right shoulder where the worst of the damage his old master did sits. He grimaces and the doctor frowns, carefully easing him from his crouch back down to the floor.

“Sore?” he guesses and Loki nods sullenly, glaring ineffectively at the smarting area. “May I?”

He’s kneeling next to Loki now, hands extended toward Loki’s shoulders and eyebrows raised, waiting for permission Loki gives after a moment of consideration and despite his still lingering guardedness around the man.

“You’ve been favouring this side,” the doctor observes, his prodding at the hurting shoulder making Loki hiss at first and then sigh when the pain ebbs and is replaced with a dull, slightly throbbing ache that is much less bothersome. “Make sure to use this arm, too, even if it’s uncomfortable. The muscles have gone stiff after not being used for so long, it’ll take time until they regain full strength and mobility.”

There are nerve centres he directs Loki’s other hand to, showing him how to rub and press them to lessen the discomfort and encourage healthy blood flow in the underlying tissue, which has Loki shut his eyes and exhale in utter bliss and is also how Anthony finds them upon his return.

“Aw, come on,” he grouses, though there is a playful note in his voice, “I leave for half a day and you turn him into a yoga-health-hippie person.”

The doctor rolls his eyes at him good-naturedly, scooting away a little and brushing a hand over Ana’s head as she bounds over to them and inelegantly plops down between Loki’s folded legs, chewing at the straw sticking out of her cup filled with something milky white and icy.

Anthony comes over and hands the doctor a steaming beverage he seems happy with and begins sipping with a serene look on his face, then holds out another cup to Loki who blinks up at him, astonished and confused.

“Strawberry Frappuccino with extra cream,” Anthony smiles, nudging the drink against Loki’s face until he takes and tentatively tastes it. “Thought you’d like that since, you know. You eat everything with strawberries in it. Yoghurt, jelly, syrup for your pancakes. Any good?”

“Tasty,” Loki says truthfully, feeling his cheeks heat when Anthony practically beams at him.

“Awesome,” Anthony singsongs as he gets rid of his tie and shucks his suit jacket, taking a seat on the floor and distributing the food he brought.

Ana ends up sampling all of the pastries which prompts the doctor into a lecture about ‘sugar highs’ and makes Anthony groan dramatically and throw a napkin at his head.

Loki, meanwhile, is content to watch them bicker and soak up the warmth from the hand Anthony placed on his back, glad he succeeded in making Anthony happy today.

***

Anthony’s workshop is a place of wonders to Loki but he makes an effort to spend as little time down there as possible. It is the space where Anthony creates and invents, where, Loki firmly believes, he needs to be left in peace.

Ana, however, sees matters very differently and follows him there on a regular basis, much to Loki’s dismay. So he enters the lift one day with the goal to retrieve her and give Anthony some time alone without having to keep an eye out for small, grabby hands and clumsy toddler feet.

Anthony says he does not mind having her with him which Loki knows to be true whenever he examines the steadily expanding collection of Ana’s pictures covering the wall above his workbench, only interrupted by the occasional ‘selfie’ in which the both pull silly faces, or the tiny replica of his own work clothes Anthony has found for her or the way he has cleared a table for her and given her tools for drawing and crafting.

But Ana is Loki’s responsibility and should not disturb Anthony so frequently. It also saddens Loki that Anthony thinks him to be an inadequate parent as proven by his incredulity over Loki’s lack of knowledge when it comes to childcare.

He once learned the basics, of course, has kept Ana fed and safe to the best of his abilities so far, though he has grown painfully aware of how much more he could do.

Predictably, Ana makes a fuss when she is told to come upstairs and pouts, refusing to walk in hopes that Loki will choose to simply leave her instead of carrying her. She finally perks up at the promise of playtime with Loki and allows him to divest her of her goggles and the huge white coat.

Anthony watches the whole exchange in silence, but when Loki looks at him on his way back out he smiles softly which must mean Loki is doing at least moderately well.

***

Loki guiltily craves spending time with Anthony beyond his mission of being good for his owner.

It is of no matter if they are alone, which does not happen often with Ana being a permanent presence and the doctor visiting regularly, or with other people, all Loki cares about is that the other man is near and, preferably, that there is some physical contact.

No matter what the day brings, they always share Ana’s naps. Loki cradles her close and reads until she falls asleep, then the two men talk quietly about everything and nothing or doze as well. Loki’s favourite nap is the one where he wakes up to Anthony’s arm hazardously thrown over both Ana and himself.

It makes him feel safe.

***

Breakfast is usually a shared affair with the three of them lounging comfortably on the sofa, Ana grumpy and rumpled still from the night, Anthony bleary-eyed and only just gearing up to his almost inhuman speed, and Loki filled with warmth when Ana inevitably squeezes between them and Anthony kisses her cheeks and tickles her sides until she’s giggling and squealing in delight while Loki and Anthony share glances over the top of her head.

It makes him feel welcome.

***

During the days after he first wakes, Anthony tends to Loki’s injuries on a daily basis. The doctor makes sure everything is healing nicely when he comes by, but it is Anthony who changes the bandages and spreads healing creams and ointments.

It makes Loki feel cared for.

***

“We’re gonna watch ‘Brave’ because it’s awesome and I fail at saying no to your daughter when she does that cute thing with her eyes,” Anthony announces, not sounding the least bit put out by having the choice of movie taken away from him yet again. “Join us?” 

Anthony nestles into the corner of the sofa with his feet on the small table ‘because Bruce ain’t here to bitch about it’ and Ana crawls into his lap after commandeering the bowl of popcorn. Loki sits gingerly on the opposite side of the couch until Anthony looks up, frowns and lifts his arm in invitation for Loki to worm under.

Which he does, resting his head against Anthony’s chest and his hand over the glowing, softly humming circle in his chest, free arm curled over Ana and legs stretched out behind himself on the empty seat.

It does not take long until there is a cheek pressed against his temple and fingers carding through his hair.

It makes Loki feel as if he is wanted.

As if he belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony is obsessed with Starbucks. Which has nothing to do with my obsession with Starbucks. I don’t even drink coffee, you know, and I still spend way too fucking much money at that joint. Ugh. I’m terrible at life.
> 
> Want me to be your bitch for a little while and write you nice/porny/heart-breaking stories? Go check out my [commissions](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/commissions) page on tumblr!


	24. Voice of Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is a miracle worker. A round of applause for Bruce and his limitless patience for Tony and his bullshit.
> 
> Also, you wanted a chapter of Tony being an idiot about everything? Yes? No? Well, whatever, that’s what you get.

**Chapter XXIV - Voice of Reason**

* * *

Loki, after a few minor setbacks during the first few days, is adjusting to their unique situation pretty quickly and more or less easily, Tony thinks.

He’s adorably curious about food of all sorts, devouring everything Tony and Bruce bring home with an enthusiasm he tries and completely fails to hide. Tony very carefully does not think about the reasons for this enhanced appetite, focusing his energy on figuring out Loki’s tastes instead, since Ana is the least picky child he’s ever encountered and will eat anything Tony sets in front of her. Or happens to accidentally forget on the coffee table. But it’s not like an already bitten into, day-old pear has ever killed anyone, right?

They mostly forgo meat, not wanting to provoke a repeat of the spaghetti incident, but this is New York and there’s still plenty to choose from. Especially if you’re filthy rich and totally shameless when it comes to paying for delivery services from places that don’t usually deliver.

And yes, Tony can admit it, he’s developing a slight addiction to the delighted smile - the one that always manages to transform Loki’s whole face into something soft and shyly content - Loki smiles when they discover another dish he finds particularly enjoyable.

Or maybe just the picture of Loki smiling in general, who knows. But the guy’s repeatedly been through hell and back going by what little he’s disclosed and Tony’s been able to put together so far and he deserves a goddamned break.

So Tony will buy him all the food he can eat and pretend to like weird stuff like seaweed as long as it makes Loki happy.

Even though there’s a voice in the back of his head somewhere, stern and sounding a lot like an angry, disappointed Steve Rogers, that’s telling him that keeping Loki’s presence on Earth a secret is a spectacularly stupid thing to do, and this, together with what is left of the sane part of his brain screaming at him to not fall for a crazy Norse deity, should probably give Tony pause to think, but well.

Tony’s had stupid ideas before, lots of them, has charged right into fights he was bound to lose and he’s still alive and kicking, has always come out on top in the end even if getting there was a huge pain in the ass. Sometimes figuratively, more often than not literally.

Besides, he’s told Bruce and Bruce is considered a responsible adult by most, so Tony really can’t be held accountable for anything from here on out.

And thus continues Tony’s mission to spoil and pamper his two resident aliens. Because despite their unexpected yet impressive adaptability to everything ranging from new foods to human technology, Tony is concerned about them. Which, he supposes, is not the most far-fetched thing to be, given the current circumstances, but it’s more than simple worry about their physical injuries or even the potential emotional trauma that has Tony fretting and hovering constantly.

Ana appears to be fine, or fine-ish, all things considered, and although Tony is well aware that’s not always the case - as proven by the occasional nightmare and the increased clinginess whenever he has to leave the tower - the girl is not the primary reason for his disturbed peace of mind.

The award for that goes to Loki and his zombie-like slinking around the penthouse. While he eats and sleeps and showers and goes through all the basic tasks of day-to-day life, he doesn’t actually _do_ anything. Or, more precisely, he neglects to do things for himself.

Tony has never seen him take anything out of the kitchen outside of meal times, not even a glass of tap water, despite ensuring him that he’s free to do so whenever he’s hungry or thirsty. He partakes in the movie nights Tony introduces shortly after he wakes up and Tony is sure Loki is having fun, that he’s savouring the calm and the contact with both him and Ana, but he never makes any requests and leaves the TV alone unless Tony goes and fetches him.

The tablet Tony gave him sits unused in his room most of the time and it’s not for a lack of understanding, Tony showed him how to use the internet - which was hilarious to watch - and how to access his online library and all the files concerning the invasion Tony wisely collected after everything was made public during S.H.I.E.L.D.’s downfall and before Agent’s clean-up crews moved in and buried it all again.

But all Loki does apart from going through his daily routine of waking-showering-dressing-eating and out of his own volition is either for Ana’s benefit - which is good and probably healthy for the two of them, but not the point - or a suggestion of Tony’s.

Or, and this is the worst because Tony has no idea how to handle it, he asks to be put to work. And if there’s one thing Tony absolutely cannot do to Loki, will not do to him, it’s ordering him around. The thought alone of taking that step away from host and tentative friend and towards owner and master leaves him sick and disgusted with himself and whoever drilled that submissive behaviour into Loki in the first place. 

So Tony reverts to the only form of offering comfort and showing affection he’s capable of and starts throwing around money, because money he can spare en masse.

Which is fortunate since Loki keeps accepting the gifts and always thanks Tony with an expression caught somewhere between confused and appreciative, yet refuses to come out of his shell.

Now, Tony is anything but stupid, and although he’s not the most well-versed person in the field of appropriate emotional reactions to life altering events, even he realises that processing the last couple of years will take Loki some time. A shitload of time, most likely. That recovery isn’t linear, that there will be as of yet unforeseen obstacles and bad days where nothing goes as planned and everything seems pointless. That they’ll find some things so irrevocably broken that repairing them isn’t an option anymore and all they can do is offer to help with damage control.

And he can live with that. Heaven knows dealing with Tony and his issues is no piece of cake. Tony’s trying, he’s making an honest effort for once, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t sting to see Bruce achieve what he so desperately wants with ease, to be on the sideline while Loki opens up to the doctor in ways he can’t or doesn’t want with Tony.

Yeah, and fine, it more than stings, it sucks. A hell of a lot. And Tony’s seething with jealousy because really? It’s not fair. Sure, maybe part of why this pisses him off so much is because Tony’s not accustomed to have a project fall through if he genuinely gives it his best and that’s exactly what’s happening here; his best, as it turns out, is not enough.

Also, childish as he’s fully aware and not acknowledging he’s being, Tony likes Loki and wants Loki to like him back.

It’s MIT and Rhodey all over again, though Tony suspects that faking IDs to buy the whole dormitory cigarettes and booze will not be the best course of action to boost this particular friendship.

Naturally, Tony’s reaction to this whole mess is to lock himself in his workshop with a six-pack of outrageously expensive imported beer and turn up the music to a decidedly unhealthy volume which ends with JARVIS, the traitor, calling Bruce of all people.

“He’s cucumber about you,” Bruce says on the other side of the glass door. Tony’s lip reading skills apparently can’t withstand a day without food and filled with drinking, because he’s fairly sure that doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t even like cucumbers.

“What?” he demands, waving angrily for his soon-to-be deleted AI to turn down the blaring AC/DC. “And what are you doing here? Don’t you have teacher things to do?”

Bruce directs a disapproving frown at the empty bottles strewn hazardously across the floor, then sighs and shifts his attention to where Tony’s crumpled in a corner, hugging the fire extinguisher DUM-E must have brought him sometime during his totally justified pity party.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. But JARVIS was concerned after you muted him for most of the day and decided to call me.” He shoves an upturned drawer out of the way and lowers himself down opposite Tony, prying the extinguisher out of Tony’s limp arms. “Wanna tell me what we’re dealing with here?”

“Loki hates me,” Tony whines and wraps his arms around his legs, hiding his face behind his knees.

Bruce is quiet for several long moments, prompting Tony to peek up at him and see him blinking, mouth hanging slightly ajar.

“That’s not an attractive look on you, you know,” he mumbles and Bruce rolls his eyes but closes his mouth with an audible plop, leaning back on his hands as he regards Tony.

“What makes you think that?”

Tony gives a half-hearted shrug, flicking a bottle cap across the room for the bots to chase.

“What are we, back in middle school?” Bruce laughs which is just rude. “He likes you, believe me. JARVIS says he’s been sitting in the hall around the corner since he put Ana to bed, asking if you’re all right every few minutes.”

“He’s different around you,” Tony says, ignoring the hopeful fluttering in his chest the idea of Loki caring about his wellbeing causes. “More at ease.”

Something in Bruce’s expression changes, becomes more gentle, and Tony has to look away again. “He doesn’t know how to act around you, Tony.“

“That’s the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard,” Tony snorts, “I’m easy to be around, I’m a fucking delight to be around if I want to be. And I wanted to. Want to. Bruce, I don’t know, I’ve been doing everything I can and I get the feeling it’s all been wrong. I want him to be safe and comfortable, I want him to have a home here, at least until we figured out what the hell is going on. I bought him all the things he needs and then some, all the things I thought he might like, I’m doing everything in my not to be underestimated power to make this transition as easy as possible for him-“

“That’s it right there,” Bruce interrupts with a soft smile and Tony doesn’t understand, so he scowls back at him. “He feels useless and being useless is, in his experience, something to be avoided at all costs. It’s a death sentence, Tony, you yourself told me what the guards who brought him had to say about this.”

“He’s not my slave,” Tony tries, knowing it to be futile when Bruce shakes his head, his eyes big and sad.

“He is, though. You signed that contract and I know your intentions were good, honourable even, but that doesn’t change the facts or how he still sees you at the moment.”

Tony groans and flops down onto his back, throwing an arm over his face. “Which is why I’m being nice and spending money. Can’t imagine his previous owner, which is a title I resent, just for you information, was very concerned about what he wore or what kind of shampoo he liked. I know. It smells like mandarins and has an unpronounceable French name. I found out and now I’m getting it for him because I’m nice like that and he deserves nice things and you’re telling me that’s wrong why?”

“Not wrong,” Bruce is quick to reassure, “but also not what he needs. He doesn’t understand what you’re doing, Tony. His mind is set on serving you and you’re not providing him with anything he can do to achieve that.”

“You’re suggesting I play along with this master and slave insanity?” Tony snaps, frustrated and somewhat incredulous, propping himself up on his elbows so he can glare at Bruce. “Because you can forget about that. It’s dumb and I’m not doing it.”

“All I’m saying is that having some chores is a normal, healthy thing and has the potential to work wonders here,” Bruce insists, then suddenly begins to chuckle. “But I see my error in expecting you to know this and apologise, Mr Billionaire who has never had to use a vacuum or tidy his own room in his life. Ever.”

All Tony can do is gape at him for a few seconds. “Do not sass me. I am the sassy one in this relationship. And I know how to clean. I clean in here. Sometimes.”

Bruce swipes a finger over the nearest table, raising a pointed eyebrow at the oily black smudge sticking to it.

“Oh, shut up,” Tony grumbles, though he’s having a hard time keeping the stupid grin off his face. “So, what? Stop buying him shit and let him help with stuff?”

“You can do whatever you want with your money, we all know there’s no stopping you. But yes, engage him. You don’t have to give orders, simply say yes if he offers to do something menial again. Let him do the dishes or gather up Ana’s toys.”

“I have bots for that,” Tony points out but accepts the hand Bruce offers him once he’s climbed to his own feet.

“You’re very persistent about reminding us all what a genius you are, I’m sure you can figure something out,” Bruce deadpans, leading the way to the door and holding it open despite the tongue Tony pokes out at him for that. “Go talk to him.”

Tony watches him punch in the codes to the public area of the tower and vanish through the doors, then takes a deep, steadying breath and moves to the elevator leading up to the penthouse.

Loki jumps up the instant he spots him, his shoulders hunched and expression guarded. “Are you all right, Anthony?”

“Yeah, fine,” Tony says and cups one of Loki’s elbows in his hand, relieved when Loki graces him with a small but genuine smile in return. “How long have you been down here?”

Loki ducks his head, his cheeks heating. “A while,” he admits.

“Had dinner yet?” Tony asks, receiving the expected head-shake. Taking Bruce’s advice to heart he continues, “All right, how about Chinese and a movie? Can you get us some drinks while I call the restaurant?”

It’s clear that Loki’s thrown by the request, though he recovers swiftly and nods eagerly as the elevator doors open to the penthouse floor.

They separate, Tony throwing himself across the couch and dictating their usual order to JARVIS while Loki is busy in the kitchen, soon joining him with a glass of Tony’s favourite red and a bottle of mineral water.

Loki sits stiffly until Tony takes a sip and sighs happily, smiling at him in thanks which finally makes Loki relax and sink back into his seat. Tony drapes his arm over the back of the couch and Loki scoots over, pressing against his side and resting his head on Tony’s shoulder so Tony can run his fingers through his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darlings, I started a series of one-shots and I would appreciate it so, so much if you could go over there, have a look at it and tell me what you think. 
> 
> Now, I know we all adore Tony/Loki, but listen. No, really, listen. Okay? Okay. It's a Tony/Bucky series because, well, there's a lack of Tony/Bucky fiction out there. It's true and it's sad. And come on, just imagine Robert and Sebastian together and tell me that is not a very nice, very hot pairing. Yeah, you can't, that's right.
> 
> So, check out [Probably](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2350775), the first instalment, if you got the time. I'd appreciate it so much and maybe work faster on the next chapter for this story.
> 
> (That's a lie, I'm a lazy asshole. Sorry.)


	25. With my Head right through the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [lame excuse] I wanted to upload this yesterday evening, but I updated another story first and then AO3 kinda stopped working? IDK, computer stuff, you know. [/lame excuse]
> 
> Nah, seriously. It’s actually true, but what’s one day more? (An eternity, I know. Sorry. Not. Maybe?)
> 
> This chapter... it kind of ended up going in a slightly different direction than I intended. Some people asked if/when we’ll get to see some drama or potentially triggering things and I actually planned something along those lines for this chapter. But it got too long and well. Bad stuff next time, all right?
> 
> Also, guys. We’ve reached one thousand comments which is... crazy, frankly. Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than sit around and wait for me to get my shit together and write for you? What’s wrong with you? 
> 
> (Which is my way of saying thanks. Thanks.)

**Chapter XXV - With my Head right through the Wall**

* * *

Coming up with inconspicuous ways to make Loki feel useful without accidentally slipping into a commanding role or tone turns out to be much more difficult than Tony originally anticipated.

Loki is clever, despite his lingering and completely justified suspicions about Tony’s intentions toward him, so simply giving him a bunch of tasks to do over the course of the day is right out of the question. He’d know something has changed and Tony can’t have that, he wouldn’t even know where to start explaining this new approach he himself still isn’t entirely comfortable with.

Were it up to Tony alone, he’d continue to spoil the life out of him until Loki accepts the fact that all Tony wants is for him to be okay again. Until he realises that Tony isn’t harbouring any secret, sinister plans to snatch everything nice and good away again the moment Loki starts enjoying it just for shits and giggles.

But, Tony has to admit, Bruce does have a point and what they discussed does make some sense. Some. A little.

Huey, Dewey and Louie the three terrible Vikings had been pretty damn clear as to what happens to slaves who can’t satisfy their masters’ demands and needs. And while Tony resents those titles and keeps pouring over that stupid contract in hopes of finding some loophole to get both Loki and Ana out of this craptastic situation, his property and therefore his responsibility is exactly what the two of them are, no matter how sick that notion makes him.

Meaning that Loki expects certain actions from him and no amount of gifts or reassuring words will convince him that Tony doesn’t mean any harm. And if he has to go against his own beliefs here and there to help things along and build a foundation of trust between himself and Loki, that’s what Tony’s going to do.

He’ll give Loki what he apparently needs even though he doesn’t exactly understand or agree with it.

Take that, spiteful reporter lady from that one shitty newspaper who called him a sociopathic narcissist without any regard for anyone not currently sitting on his dick. Tony Stark is capable of caring if he chooses to be, thank you _very_ much.

Anyway.

Frustratingly enough, knowing that he has to make some changes is merely the first step into the long, arduous endeavour of setting things right, a process liberally littered with hidden mines and triggers Tony has absolutely no desire to tread on and undoubtedly will stumble over because that’s how much the universe hates him.

Add to that the fact that he was probably busy building or blowing up stuff while the big man in the sky handed out people skills and viola; a disaster waiting to happen if Tony’s ever seen one.

There’s the issue of not making his hints and suggestions sound like orders, for one, because that would pretty much defy the purpose of his many and often repeated ‘you are safe and my guest and not my servant’ speeches. Which require Tony to actually have found something Loki can do which doesn’t end up looking like he’s just humouring him even though that’s exactly what he’s doing at the moment.

Thankfully though, Loki’s cleverness and his eagerness to please combined come in handy for once, playing right into the plan Tony’s totally not making up as he goes.

Obviously having taken Tony’s drink request as some kind of permission, Loki gradually begins to push when it comes to all sort of household chores, meaning all Tony has to do is keep his mouth shut about how the bots are able to handle all that and let Loki load the dishwasher and put away their breakfast things.

Initially, and very selfishly, Tony hopes that cleaning a little here and there will be enough to settle Loki, to make him believe that he’s an appreciated member of their odd yet strangely fitting household-community-family constellation, but Loki’s continuous wariness and blatant disregard of all things offered to him burst that particular bubble pretty quickly.

Patience might not usually be one of Tony’s virtues, but what he lacks in that regard he makes up in sheer stubbornness.

So back to the drawing board it is.

***

Turns out Tony has been overthinking things again, just like everyone tells him he’s wont to do. He’d argue that they are not using enough of their already limited brain capacity, but since the simple solution seems to be the one that works this time around, he graciously refrains from harassing JARVIS with a tirade about the stupidity of the general population.

Instead, he drops his wrench with a slightly exaggerated sigh and spins his chair around, letting his eyes roam aimlessly around the workshop.

Ana ignores the commotion, stacking Lego blocks with an adorably determined look on her scrunched up face, but Loki glances up from his book, brows furrowing at Tony’s mostly faked irritation.

“Is something wrong?” he asks and Tony forces down the wave of warmth at the genuineness of his concern, gesturing around the room in feigned annoyance while he tries to hide his pleased smile.

In Tony’s opinion, Loki spending time down here in the shop with him and Ana should be considered enormous progress. It developed out of a compromise the two men came to when Loki kept taking Ana upstairs in sweet but misguided attempts to grant Tony some privacy and quiet to work, causing Ana to throw a tantrum so massive Tony was actually impressed she didn’t burst a blood vessel or two in the process.

Now, in lieu of carrying a kicking and flailing Ana away, Loki silently slips into the room sometimes and watches his daughter from the ratty old couch in the corner while absently fiddling with his tablet or shyly flipping through some of Tony’s MIT textbooks that are stashed away down here.

Tony prefers this to the solitude he’d almost convinced himself into liking before the two of them showed up, having his little group of people around and knowing someone is there whenever he gets frustrated with a project and needs a break. Or simply feels the urge to get some human-alien contact and all he has to do is hold his arms out for Ana to bound over to him or flop down next to Loki to have him lean into his side.

It’s nice, to put it plain and simple. And it also plays beautifully into his newest scheme of how to cheer up Loki without doing any actual cheering up and giving him something meaningful to do while not seeming like that’s what he’s up to.

Good thing Tony thrives on challenges and is highly allergic to backing down.

“This place is a fucking mess,” he groans and Loki isn’t quick enough to wipe away the expression stating he clearly agrees with that assessment before Tony sees it.

Predictably, Loki asks “What can I do to help?” and sets down his book, rolling back his sleeves as he gets up and walks over to Tony. 

“Can’t find shit in here, I just need to straighten up a little,” Tony shrugs and rubs a hand over his face, digging thumb and forefinger into his eyes to battle the quickly approaching migraine he can already feel in the back of his head.

The workshop desperately needs some cleaning and tidying, that much is true. There’s a custom-built soldering iron he uses for the finer joints in his armour’s fingers that has been lost to the depths of the shop for nearly three weeks now and Tony’s fairly certain at least one of the stains on the floor below his workbench is blood from that one time a couple of days ago he accidentally stabbed himself in the hand with a screwdriver.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” he whines, rapidly descending into sulky toddler mode and not caring one bit that he’s straying from his original plan now that he realised just how much effort it’s going to take to bring some order back into his workspace.

_Ugh._

“Are you in pain?” Loki suddenly wants to know, his voice hushed as he catches on to the possibility of a headache, and carefully brushes some hair away from Tony’s forehead. He splays one cool hand - and Loki’s hands, for some probably Frost Giant related reason, are always a refreshing few degrees colder than the average human’s - over Tony’s heated and slightly clammy skin, making Tony moan a little and arch into the touch.

Tony can feel more than hear Loki’s low chuckle at his reaction, humming softly when Loki begins to card his fingers through his hair and lightly rub at his temples, his eyes fluttering closed with another, much more content, sigh.

“This feels awesome,” he says, slurring his words almost beyond recognition because damn, how long has he been awake this time around?

He had breakfast with Ana and Loki twice in his current awake-cycle, so at least forty-eight hours, Tony calculates and winces, turning his head to press his cheek against Loki’s stomach which makes Loki tense and Tony freeze and silently curse himself.

Before Tony has the chance to panic and start spewing apologies, however, Loki takes another step closer, now effectively standing between Tony’s legs which Tony tries extremely hard not to think about, cradles Tony’s head against himself and continues with his ministrations.

“You should rest,” Loki murmurs quietly, lightly scratching his fingers over Tony’s scalp in a reverse of their usual positions. “And eat. Doctor Banner tells me you have a certain tendency to forget both whenever you are engrossed in one of your inventions.”

“Bruce is a fucking traitor and obstructer of great scientific progress,” Tony sniffs but doesn’t actually contradict what Loki’s suggesting since, well, his rumbling stomach and spinning head kind of agree. “What about the shop?”

Loki considers for a moment. “How about you write a list of everything that needs to be done for us to look over while I prepare dinner?”

Surprised, Tony blinks up at Loki, bracing his chin on Loki’s belly. “You can cook?”

“I-“ Loki coughs, the tips of his ears turning pinkish. His following “Yes?” is hesitant, more a question than a statement.

“Awesome,” Tony decides and Loki, seeming stunned, barely manages to force out a high-pitched, “Is it?”

Tony shrugs a little. “Sure. What’re you gonna make? I’m in the mood for Italian. Can you do pasta?”

One online recipe and Tony being banned from the kitchenette by yet another person later, it’s clear that yes, Loki is an incredibly talented chef - at the mention of which he nearly drops his fork and Tony has to hide a grin - and allowing him to fuss over Tony works wonders for Loki’s self-esteem.

And if Tony practically basks in all the attention now bestowed upon him, that’s entirely beside the point.

But he does. And he loves it. So sue him.

***

Loki is a terrific nurse. Once he stops with the angry shouting, that is.

“What did you do?” Loki gasps when Tony walks out of the elevator, jumping up from his sprawl on one of the armchairs to cup Tony’s face and tilt it toward the light for inspection.

Tony winces and grumbles when the movement pulls at and reopens the gash across his eyebrow, a new trickle of blood sluggishly making its way down over his temple. “It looks worse than it is?” he offers sheepishly, Loki’s flat expression making it perfectly clear that he does not believe that in the slightest.

The pained, distressed sound Loki makes while he hovers his fingers over the wound, momentarily at a loss as to what the appropriate course of action might be, takes Tony completely aback. Loki’s lips are pinched, pressed into a thin line, turned down at the corners.

He’s scared, Tony realises with a start. And blurts the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s nothing, really.”

Which was obviously not his finest moment, going by the furious glare suddenly pinning Tony in place.

“It most certainly is not _nothing_ ,” Loki growls, tugging Tony along to the couch where he unceremoniously pushes him down into the cushions before crouching in front of him and taking his chin again. “This is the opposite of nothing. What were you thinking? What were you doing?”

“Suit... stuff?!” Tony tries and bats at Loki’s hands which turns out to be another mistake; Loki, obviously fed up, simply catches both his wrists in one hand and plucks a tissue from the coffee table, carefully starting to dab away the blood.

 _“Sir attempted to test his new boot thrusters,”_ JARVIS buts in, ignoring Tony betrayed groan. At Loki’s questioning grunt he specifies, _“Despite my advice to the contrary.”_

“Does Anthony require medical attention?” Loki asks and brushes an apologetic thumb over Tony’s cheek when he touches an especially tender part of the cut and Tony hisses.

 _“There are butterfly bandages in the first aid kit under the kitchen sink. Instruction for application can be found on the back of the packaging,”_ JARVIS supplies crisply, making it clear that Tony will have to deal with a sulky AI for the foreseeable future. _“There is also the possibility of a concussion. Waking Sir every hour for the next six to eight hours and asking him basic questions should suffice as a precautionary measure.”_

At least JARVIS is aware of the fuss Tony would most definitely raise if they forced him to go to the hospital. Hospitals are the worst with all their white and smells and white, Tony thinks dizzily, head lolling against the couch’s back.

Loki nods seriously, then reaches out to pat Tony’s chest. “Stay here. Do not fall asleep,” he orders before getting up to fetch the kit.

Now that the adrenaline of his admittedly not all that successful flight is slowly subsiding, Tony notices the dull, throbbing ache beginning to take over his whole body. He can’t bring himself to give a damn, though, not when he has Loki bossing him around and being bitchy because he nearly broke his neck diving head first into a wall.

Yeah, Tony’s grateful to have a pissed off Norse deity in his house. That’s his life. His life is ridiculous.

“What are you smiling about?” Loki’s now quiet but still angrily brimming voice breaks through the fog clouding his head and Tony blinks open his eyes - which he had apparently closed somewhere along the line, how about that - to Loki climbing onto the couch next to him and pulling him back against his chest.

“You,” Tony hums and turns his face into Loki’s neck, oblivious to the odd stare that earns him, settling down with an exhausted huff.

Loki dutifully wakes him once every hour and makes him drink a shitload of water, but he never moves away, his arms stay wound around Tony, his cheek resting against the crown of Tony’s head.

Which is the only reason Tony minimises his complaining about his interrupted sleep. That, and the nightmares that don’t come that night. It may be the head injury, but Tony likes to believe it’s the gentle hand running up and down his back and the maybe but hopefully not imagined ghost of lips on his forehead that keep the monsters at bay.

What’s less fun is having Ana wriggle under the magically appeared duvet at fuckthatshit o’clock in the morning, leaving Tony to splutter around a mouthful of curly hair. He pokes her belly in retaliation and gets a foot dangerously close to his groin for his troubles.

The squabbling ends with Loki mumbling something unintelligible, shifting them all until they, somehow, fit on the narrow couch without the need to resort to further violence.

Maybe, Tony thinks to himself, he should do stupid crap and get concussed more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thanks to everyone who went and checked out my new Tony/Bucky series. There is now a [Part II](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2445878)! 
> 
> And now, honeys, I need your attention. I mentioned a while back that I do commission which would be nice and all if people only knew about it. So. I have a proposition; 
> 
> The first two people going over to [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/) and sending me a PM with a FrostIron prompt will get a free ficlet (~ 1,000 words) which is free. Which means it doesn’t cost anything. 
> 
> Neat, yeah? 
> 
> The only condition is that you please, pretty please, share it with your followers once it’s published to spread the word that I’m open and ready for new commissions. And that you consider how much I can possibly work into a thousand words. 
> 
> That’s all, I think.
> 
> *opens beer and sits back to wait*


	26. The Myth of Unrequited Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sick of Halloween yet? Too bad, here’s another Halloween-themed chapter. Yeah, yeah, I know. Boo, shame on me, I’m late. I tried and I failed. Whatever *stuffs face with leftover candy* 
> 
> I finished the three (instead of two because why not?) prompts I promised last time which you can find [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2524022), [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2492243) and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2481890), the last one being a sequel/timestamp to this very story. Go check them out. 
> 
> For those of you following my other work, there is also a [new part](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2544128) to my Tony/Bucky series. 
> 
> All right, enough self-promotion.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, guys.

**Chapter XXVI - The Myth of Unrequited Love**

* * *

The first hitch in their otherwise peaceful and relatively quiet almost-domesticity starts with Ana banging her way into the workshop, sliding around DUM-E on her sock-clad feet in a manoeuvre that has Tony and Loki hold their collective breath in anticipation of injury and tears, and jumping up onto the couch, buzzing around excitedly until Tony scoops her up into his arms.

“Hi,” he laughs, accepting the too wet kiss that lands somewhere between his mouth and nose before returning the favour with a big smooch to Ana’s cheek, making her wrinkle her nose and poke her tongue out at him. “Is there a particular reason for this good mood which you’d like to share with the class?”

Ana nods vigorously, wriggling her way back down to the floor only to dart across the room to Loki who smiles indulgingly as he lifts her up to settle her on his hip. 

With an expression of determined concentration, Ana tips her head back to look at the ceiling, bouncing impatiently.

 _“Miss Ana?”_ JARVIS asks, more politely than he ever is with Tony, the sucker for baby girl happiness, and Ana hums, signing a flawless T and V back at his sensors. _“Would you like me to show Sirs the programme you were watching upstairs?”_

Another nod and one of the screens on Tony’s desk flickers to life, a gaggle of laughing and squealing kids in costumes sorting through a frankly ridiculous amount of candy.

Eyes wide, Ana stares at Tony expectantly and Tony’s heart sinks.

“Halloween?” Loki inquires before Tony has the chance to say anything, head tilted to the side and frowning. “I imagine the concept of the celebration has changed in the centuries since I last visited Midgard?”

“Yeah,” Tony sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, “you could say that. It’s basically parties with slutty costumes and a lot of booze for the adults and cute costumes and going from door to door asking for candy for kids.”

“Ah.” Loki grimaces because of course he’s quick on the uptake. “Ana-“ he begins but then falters when she flickers an incredibly hopeful gaze up at him.

It’s not that Tony wouldn’t love taking Ana trick-or-treating, quite the opposite, in fact. Free stuff and catching up on a childhood of not being allowed to join his peers in their candy-collecting, Tony would be all over that if it weren’t for the enormous security risk him going around and knocking on strangers’ doors poses.

And Loki taking her, well, that’s a terrible idea for so many reasons not even JARVIS would be able to count that high.

Tony briefly yet seriously considers donning the Iron Man suit which would probably give every last person in his PR and security departments a coronary , but has to dismiss that idea on the grounds of not being able to safely carry Ana should the need arise or fight his way out of a dangerous situation with a toddler in tow.

Even though it would undoubtedly be the best costume out there.

“Ana, my sweet,” Loki continues, his tone more sombre now, “we are guests in this-“

Which is how far he gets before Ana’s face crumples and damn, Tony thinks, somewhat impressed, it’s sort of amazing how fast she can go from perfectly content to full-on crying. Amazing, but also heartbreaking.

“We can go out,” Tony blurts, earning himself a scowl from Loki and a smile as if he’d hung the moon from Ana. “It’s okay, baby, we’ll go out, don’t worry. C’mere, sweetheart,” he coos, holding out his hands to take the girl back, pressing his cheek to the top of her head.

He also realises, in that exact moment, how much he not only accepts or likes but genuinely loves that child and, to a different but no less important degree, her father. Shutting his eyes, Tony buries his face in Ana’s hair, taking a few deep, calming breaths while he tries and utterly fails to process that major discovery.

“Anthony,” Loki draws his attention and while it’s said quietly, there is a note of warning and, shockingly enough, hurt in his voice. “I would prefer it if you did not make promises with the potential to cause even more grief.”

It takes him a moment, but then Tony shakes his head, hitching Ana a little higher so they’re face-to-face. “We will celebrate Halloween and you will get your candy, starshine,” he states, chin jutted out determinedly. To Loki he adds, “I’ll make it happen. I will. I don’t go back on my word. Now, you two think about costumes,” he instructs, throwing Ana up in the air once before putting her on her feet, “and I’m going to make calls and plot and shit.”

Loki practically radiates doubtfulness, although he’s politely silent about it, and Tony can’t really blame him for it. He still pulls a mock-annoyed face when he’s reminded to not utter obscenities in front of Ana, however, hoots “Jay, my love, open a new project for me!” and doesn’t bother to hide his grin at the reluctantly amused eye-roll he gets in return.

***

Art supplies definitely go on the list of ‘things Tony needs to buy for Loki no matter what Loki has to say about it’, Tony decides as he traces the fake tattoo winding its way up a sleeping Ana’s arm.

Years of half-listening to Steve’s lectures about pencil grades and easels and apparently ludicrous charcoal prices, of being dragged along to gallery openings by Pepper and museums by both her and Cap have left him with the basic knowledge to determine if someone has potential and, more importantly, enjoys painting and drawing.

Both can be applied to Loki and, actually, why not make room in the shop for a studio-like space? There’s natural light - which he’s been told, repeatedly, is essential for the process, whatever that’s supposed to mean - and Loki spends most of his time down there already anyway.

And, maybe, Tony wants to anchor him in an area he considers his own because he’s a selfish asshole and would do a lot to keep Loki near. But that’s totally secondary.

Ana snuffles a little, warm breath puffing against Tony’s neck, and Tony smiles, resting his lips against her temple. He knows he has to wake her up soon, can’t put her to bed covered in body paint and smeared with chocolate, but he’s oddly reluctant to move from their current position curled up on the couch, content with her comforting weight on his chest and watching the array of expressions flicker over Loki’s face as he sorts through their loot.

There will most likely be some damage control necessary after the three of them stalked through the various floors in search for sweet things, rumours about the tall stranger and child accompanying Tony Stark to the official Stark Industries party even if his employees knew better than to attempt snapping pictures of his personal guests.

Besides, Tony is fairly sure the majority of SI workers were preoccupied with the fact that they got the afternoon off to mingle, eat unhealthy snacks and drink pumpkin-spiced drinks or go in-house trick-or-treating with their own kids.

Yeah, he might have gone a little overboard, shutting down all Manhattan business and turning the tower into one enormous haunted house, but Ana’s awed gasps at the decorations and shy giggles whenever someone complemented her costume were absolutely, one-hundred percent worth the effort and potential scolding from a certain ex-girlfriend.

The seat next to him dips, causing Tony to startle out of his reverie and crane his neck to meet Loki’s unusually serene gaze from where’s he has his head nestled into Tony’s shoulder.

“You okay, Bambi?”

“Yes,” Loki hums and reaches out to pluck some sticky spider webs out of Ana’s curls. “Thank you, Anthony.”

The words are sincere, filled with gratitude for far more than the events of today, and Tony gives a jerky, aborted shrug, pinned under his - and yes, he is thinking of them as his, that’s how far gone he is - two aliens and unable to imagine a place he’d rather be. “It was nothing,” he tries to downplay the entire affair but freezes mid-sentence when Loki stretches to brush a brief, feather-light kiss over his cheek.

“Thank you,” Loki repeats and Tony curls his free arm around him, tugging him in and holding him close.

“Anytime.”

***

Loki is in trouble and being aware of his conundrum will not, he fears, bring him any relief.

Harbouring affections for a being in possession of so much power and control over him as Anthony can call his own at present is nothing short of foolish, invites pain and hurt Loki is not certain he can endure, not again.

Yet this is precisely the situation he finds himself in, dependant on the man for the most fundamental of things and owing him not only his own life but also that of his daughter. There is no clear path Loki can see which would allow him to repay his debts and put them on more even grounds, he is doomed to lag behind whilst Anthony races along and increases the distance between them with his kindness and generosity.

What constitutes perhaps as the most damning aspect is that Loki cannot, try as he might, find it in himself to be worried or concerned about how trapped he becomes by accepting everything Anthony offers him and still be greedily longing for more.

He wishes for what must be nigh impossible and is prepared to fight, to risk what little he has to achieve his goals of providing Ana with the continued love Anthony bestows upon her and picking up whatever scraps are left for his own.

Loki has learned long ago that following his heart’s desires will only ever earn him disappointment and loneliness, though the lesson does not seem to have been devastating enough for he is heading toward the same ends once more.

Huffing out an exhausted breath, Loki grabs another handful of candy corn despite having grown sick of the treat days ago, carefully eating them kernel by kernel as he watches the foreign city that has become his newfound home slowly darken into twilight.

Had he not already been enamoured beyond reason at the time, Anthony pushing himself to previously unknown heights for the sake of Ana’s happiness would most definitely have done the trick.

Now still, Loki can hardly believe that Anthony succeeded in convincing him to not only put on attire unknown and less than flattering, but also made him feel safe enough with his mere presence so that Loki agreed to accompany him and Ana to the festivities.

Their day had been filled with so much laughter and friendly banter, Loki had forgotten himself in the aftermath of it, evidence thereof being the bright red lip print on Anthony’s cheek Loki, blushing furiously, wiped away as soon as Anthony had fallen asleep next to him.

The idea had been to separate himself, to bring distance between himself and Anthony, at least for a while. Allow the inappropriateness in his belly to calm and dissipate before, tentatively, beginning to share space and conversation once more.

Anthony, of course, had foiled that plan by eagerly dragging Loki down to his workshop the very next day and proclaiming a newly cleaned and furnished corner by the windows to be Loki’s to use from now on.

“Why so glum?”

Tempering down the embarrassing fluttering of his heart, Loki tips back his head over the edge of what he’s been informed is confusingly named a bean bag, gracing Anthony with a small but all the more genuine smile in greeting.

“Merely lost in thought.”

“Thoughts about good things?” Anthony wants to know, lowering himself to the floor behind Loki, arms falling across Loki’s chest and chin coming to rest on Loki’s shoulder.

Contemplating, Loki turns his gaze back to the city, though he cannot resist leaning into the comforting warmth radiating off Anthony. Eventually he murmurs, “It remains to be seen.”

Anthony hums understandingly and they remain silent but for the even sounds of their combined breathing, the rustling of fabric and the occasional crinkle whenever Loki shifts in his seat.

So it is entirely unexpected when Anthony suddenly exclaims, “Let’s go out!”

“Out?” Loki parrots, a little dumbly, frowning up at the other man uncertainly.

“Well, yeah,” Anthony shrugs, “why not? We’re sitting here watching the outside while we could be, you know, actually going outside. Beside, you must be going stir-crazy in here.”

Which is true, to a certain extent. Loki does appreciate nature and the prospect of leaving the tower, even if greenery does not seem to be favoured much in this area, is exhilarating. Thrilling. Wanted.

Biting his lip he asks, “Do you think it wise for me to walk about people who last saw me wielding destruction upon their homes?”

But Anthony waves dismissively, already getting up and extending a hand toward Loki. “You’ll be fine. You certainly look different enough and there was no actual footage featuring you released, I checked. And five years is a long time, us humans have a talent for forgetting quickly which is mostly why we do stupid shit over and over again. Plays right into our hands today, though, so I’m not actually complaining right now.”

Hesitantly, Loki accepts the proffered hand. “Are you sure? I do not want to cause you problems with your authorities.”

“Yeah, right,” Anthony outright laughs, completely distracting Loki for a moment by linking their fingers and leading him out into the hall. “The only authority powerful enough to really get at me had a little Nazi infestation problem a while back, nasty business, a lot of stuff blew up. Afterwards they were in dire need of new security and massive funds. I think you’re smart enough to guess where this is headed.”

Which Loki can indeed. “Clever,” he remarks earnestly and is rewarded with a wink and cheeky grin that, much to his mortification, make him a little weak in the knees.

They grab jackets and shoes, Anthony personally tying Loki’s hair into a bun and pulling a woollen hat over his head, “Just to be sure.”

Anthony steps close once they are in the elevator, lightly placing his hands on Loki’s sides, his face serious. “You are going to be fine, Loki. Nothing’s going to happen, I won’t let it, all right? We won’t go far, just around the block for some fresh air, get hot dogs at the corner to bring back for Ana and Bruce. Okay?”

“Yes,” Loki nods with a conviction that leaves him the instant the doors open to the bustling entrance hall of the tower.

None of the people pay them any attention but Loki feels the burn of a thousand eyes on him; judging, knowing, condemning.

He’s bare, no cover or disguise this time, and although the part of his brain not yet panicking insists he is being irrational, there is a fear suddenly clawing its way through Loki’s chest, threatening to choke, to suffocate.

Every instinct he has shouts at him to run while his body remains frozen in place, paralysed into immobility by a nonexistent foe.

There is just about enough time for Loki to gasp out a breathy “Oh.” before everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hello to our old friend Captain Cliffhanger, you guys! 
> 
> The costumes. Important! Ana chose them because of course she did. She was dressed as [Ozzy](http://www.kboing.com.br/fotos/imagens/50fd2a01423b8.jpg) (because I've mentioned Black Sabbath about a million times already and decided to just run with that), Loki was [Paul Stanley](http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20110706201354/scoobydoo/images/5/5b/Paul_Stanley_Kiss.jpg) from KISS (because of reasons) and Tony went as [Lemmy](http://frankbauer.com/uploads/36_lemmy.jpg) since they share a deep and profound love for alcoholic beverages. 
> 
> Also, please excuse any mistakes and/or point them out. I'm on new meds that make me so freakin' tired and only checked this chapter once. They are, incidentally, also the reason why it took me so long to publish this in the first place. 
> 
> Next chapter will be up faster, I promise.


	27. Sunsets and Surprise Guests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Tony and Loki go on a sort-of-date and are totally, sickeningly romantic without realising what they’re doing. Because they are morons. Huge morons. Colossal morons.

**Chapter XXVII - Sunsets and Surprise Guests**

* * *

Reflexes honed over years of narrowly avoiding collisions with New York skyscrapers and ducking enemy projectiles are what save Loki from unceremoniously crumpling into a heap on the elevator floor.

“Oomph,” Tony grunts, air knocked out of him by a stumbling Loki, and quickly winds his arms around the barely conscious deity, gently lowering them both into a more comfortable position on the ground, his back against the wall and Loki propped up against his chest.

 _“Vitals are already stabilising again, sir,”_ JARVIS helpfully informs him and some previously unnoticed tension bleeds out of Tony’s shoulders, leaving him exhausted and shaky now that the adrenaline from the shock of seeing Loki black out right in front of him is starting to slowly subside.

With a trembling hand, Tony tucks some loose strands of hair back under Loki’s woolly hat, lingering over the pulse point on his neck for a moment just to be sure. It’s slow but not dangerously so, clearly present, allowing Tony to suck in a few painfully rasping breaths in an attempt to calm his own racing heart.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity but can’t have been more than a couple of seconds, Tony manages to croak, “What happened, J?”

_“Mr Loki appears to have fainted, sir.”_

Tony huffs and pulls an unimpressed face at his smartass of an AI. “Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious. What I want to know is _why_.”

 _“It is impossible for me to tell without input from Mr Loki himself, I’m afraid,”_ JARVIS says, sounding apologetic now. _“But I would assume at least part of the reason to be fear of detection and, subsequently, being taken away from you, sir. Venturing outside for the first time in what could very well be years must have seemed a daunting endeavour.”_

The wave of guilt that hits Tony is crushing. He pulls Loki tighter against himself, protectively curling his upper body over him, and his next words end up murmured into Loki’s neck. “I fucked up, didn’t I? It was meant to- I didn’t- I didn’t even consider something like this might happen. I thought he wanted to go, he said so.”

_“We don’t always know our own limitations. It was a well-intended gesture, sir.”_

There’s nothing Tony can say in reply to that, so he stays silent. He rubs Loki’s arm instead and links the fingers of his free hands through Loki’s still scarily limp and lifeless ones, squeezing probably much too hard in his freaked-out state.

“Come on,” he whispers, brushing his lips over Loki’s cheek when the urge to do so proves impossible to resist, pressing quick, feather-light kisses to the side of his face. “Can you wake up for me? Come on, Bambi, wake up.”

He keeps up a string of mumbled pleas until Loki eventually begins to stir, blinking groggy, confused eyes up at Tony who smiles back at him, shocked to notice the tears stinging in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Hey, welcome back.” Tony’s voice comes out wet and unsteady and he quickly wipes a hand over his face, annoyed at his overreaction but too relieved to give it more than a passing thought. He cups Loki’s face, stroking a thumb over his cheek.

Loki squints at him, then glances over at the elevator door and blanches, propelling himself out of Tony’s embrace and into the nearest corner, pulling his knees up and hugging them to his chest so he can hide his face behind them.

“Loki-“

_“Sir, do you recall the breathing exercises we practiced the last time an event such as this occurred?”_

Tony glares at the interruption and is about to demand just what the hell his AI is talking about when he sees Loki give a minute twitch of his head and start to unfold himself with quick, jerky movements.

On his knees, Tony moves closer and reaches out, placing a tentative hand on Loki’s shoulder. Loki sags into the touch, eyes screwed shut as he follows the instructions JARVIS supplies and works himself down from the edge again.

“Last time?” Tony questions when he thinks they’re over the worst, Loki still panting but not on the verge of panic anymore, by the looks of it.

There is a moment of hesitation that already tells Tony more than he wants to know before JARVIS starts to explain about Loki’s first day awake and how the two of them brokered a deal about not informing Tony which-

“You are _so_ fired!”

_“I expect generous severance pay and an outstanding recommendation for potential future employers.”_

Despite the very genuine anger, Tony can’t help but snort out a laugh at that. “Asshole,” he sighs, glancing over at Loki when the man begins to straighten up.

“I am ready to try once more,” Loki declares even as he has to use the handrail to steady himself, the words shaky and uncertain under a layer of what Tony knows, from personal experience, to be nothing but sheer stubbornness.

“Yeah, no,” Tony argues, “absolutely not.”

Loki’s face changes, his features shifting into something almost defiant. “Is that an order, sir?”

And Tony would be thrilled to have even a tiny spark of the old Loki’s confidence make a reappearance if it weren’t inevitably connected to the whole disaster that is the reason for Loki’s being here in the first place.

Crap.

Nervously licking his lips, Tony considers the best course of action and comes up completely blank.

Double crap.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s an order,” he finally decides and winces at the way Loki cringes, at the obvious hurt in his crestfallen expression. Hands held up in a placating gesture, Tony takes a step closer, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the way his chest feels tight when Loki flinches away from him.

“I see,” Loki says, flat and completely devoid of emotion, eyes trained on his shoes. “I apologise for-“

“Stop it,” Tony barks and it comes out harsher than intended, but it has the positive side effect of startling Loki into looking back up at him. “Don’t apologise. Yes, this is an order. An order in the same sense as me telling Bruce to go home to his wife after a three day science marathon is an order, or me sending Ana down for an extra nap when she’s so tired she gets cranky is an order.”

This time, Loki stays still when Tony reaches for him and takes his hands, beseechingly clasping them between his own. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I won’t keep you here if that’s not where you want to be. But you’ve got absolutely nothing to prove, not to me, not to anyone. I’m a scientist, do you have any idea how often my experiments and projects fail? Happens all the time. And when it does, the best thing to do is to remove myself from the situation, take a break, assess what went wrong and come back to it when I’ve calmed down enough to give it another try. There’s absolutely no rush, Loki. Don’t push yourself for anyone else’s sake, it’s not worth it.”

Loki stares at him, silent and unmoving, and Tony should probably avert his gaze right about now. The overwhelming amount of pure want, the desire to consume the man before him and be consumed in return, the terrifying need for closeness, must be written all over him clear as day.

But Loki merely frowns for a moment, then his bottom lips wobbles and Tony forgets all his worries because Loki is _pouting_ , including a wrinkled nose that isn’t any less adorable on him than it is on his daughter.

Loki sniffs and scuffs his toes at the floor, immediately closing the distance between them when Tony opens his arms for him, burying his face in Tony’s neck and grabbing two fistfuls of his jacket.

“I was looking forward to our outing.”

“Another time,” Tony promises, unbelievably glad for the Arc Reactor and its hiding of Tony’s wildly beating heart. He’s in so fucking deep, it’s not even funny anymore, Tony thinks miserably, but still burrows into Loki, tucking his face into Loki’s shoulder.

They stay wound together for a long while, clinging to each other, and Tony has to quickly mask his disappointment when Loki pulls away eventually.

“Should we retire back upstairs?”

Tony is about to agree when an idea hits him and he grins, shaking his head, excitedly hopping from one foot to the other and back. “JARVIS, the roof.”

There comes an inquiring noise from Loki, causing Tony’s grin to grow impossibly wider as he takes Loki’s hand in his again, leading him out onto the roof the instant the doors slide open.

They circle around the penthouse to the staircase on the far side of the tower, climbing up to the topmost level. Tony kind of wishes it were summer and not the middle of November, but the colourful display of reds, yellows and oranges that is Bruce’s garden sanctuary in the autumn has its own sort of charm.

He tugs Loki over to a tree with thick, high-hanging branches and big, wine red leaves he absolutely does not know the name of but which looks homey and inviting in the late afternoon light, settling them both on the curved bench winding itself around the trunk and allowing a perfect view the Manhattan skyline.

It’s Loki who snuggles into his side, not that that’s a problem at all, quite the opposite, and Tony curls an arm around his back, resting his chin on Loki’s shoulder. They watch the sun set in comfortable silence, huddled snugly together, the only sounds the wind, their breathing and the occasional rustling of clothes until Loki speaks up again.

“Thank you,” he says quietly and Tony can hear the smile in his voice so he nudges his nose against Loki’s cheek in reply, earning himself a content sigh. “This is perfect.”

Tony agrees wholeheartedly. Stretching a little, he plucks a fallen leaf from the back of the bench, tinkerer’s finger itching for something to play with, absently tracing the delicate vein pattern.

Loki is happy with observing for a few minutes, then he gently takes the leaf and lays it flat on his palm. Tony stares, mesmerised, as it transforms, turns a faint, translucent white. Seemingly satisfied, Loki carefully returns the leaf, directing an almost childishly expectant yet also slightly cautious look at Tony.

“What did you do?” Tony gasps, awed, and brings the surprisingly cold plant up to eye-level. “Is this-“ he cuts himself off, darting a glance at Loki before focusing his attention back on the leaf. “Ice? Holy shit, this is amazing, Loki.”

The tips of Loki’s ears turn pink and he ducks his head.

Closer inspection reveals tiny crystals now covering the solidly frozen leaf, engulfing it in a thin layer of ice. It’s breathtakingly beautiful and Tony’s brain is already running a mile a minute, trying to come up with preservation possibilities because, well, Loki gave him that leaf and yeah, he’s a little silly when it comes to Loki so yes, he’s definitely going to treasure that damn thing.

But then the fact that Loki froze something with his bare hands catches up with Tony and his fingers falter in their poking and prodding. Loki, clearly sensing the change in his posture, grows still where he’s pressed against Tony’s side.

“Magic,” is all Tony can think to say and Loki nods shyly. Not having that, Tony hooks a finger under his chin and turns his head, not surprised to see the scared, stricken look on his face. “How?”

“There are different kinds of magic,” Loki murmurs, nervously chewing at his bottom lip. Tony brushes a thumb over it, smiling encouragingly when Loki ceases the biting and, after taking a deep breath, continues haltingly. “Most are acquired through years or even decades of regular practice, much like any other non-magical skill. There are, however, people and creatures who are born with certain abilities. It is unknown how or why this phenomenon appears, although the past has shown that those born with these gifts usually grow into the most powerful and able wielders of magic.”

“Like having a predilection for magic?” Tony muses and Loki hums in agreement, apparently pleased that Tony is following him. “And I assume you have such a gift, if you’re telling me about them?”

“Yes,” Loki agrees. He shifts, moving and crossing his legs so the two of them are fully facing each other, and lifts one of Tony’s hands into the space between them, pressing their palms flat together. “Ice.”

After a moment, Tony’s skin starts to tingle with the cold emanating from Loki and he snatches his hand back to rub some warmth back into it, grinning all the while.

“So, you just make ice? Conjure ice? Control ice?” Tony wants to know, bouncing a little in his seat under the onslaught of scientific curiosity. “How does it work? And hey, what about Ana? Can Ana do stuff like this? And, again, why _can_ you do any of this while wearing the magic blockers?”

Loki seems to be loosening up again, even chuckling a bit at the storm of questions. “Conjure, control and everything else you might imagine, yes. As for the workings of magic, that is a subject not easily explained in a few simple words. I have been studying this trade for centuries and still cannot tell you its every secret.”

Tony snorts at that, huffing in disappointment. “Figures. But don’t think this is over, young man, we will be talking about this some more. In fact, would you mind if I scanned you? Like, while you’re using your finger-wiggle-mojo?” Loki looks bemused but tips his head in agreement, causing Tony to beam at him. “Great. Awesome. Okay, right, please do go on.”

“Ana also possesses such a gift, although a less material one.” Tony makes an eager sort of squealing sound, startling a laugh out of Loki. “She is able to read intentions, classify them as good and pure or rotten and bad. I cannot say how clear her readings are, however, such a thing would be hard to communicate even without her reluctance to speak.”

“A tiny alien lie detector,” Tony chuckles, earning himself an amused eye-roll from Loki. “Okay, I have to admit, that’s pretty cool. Pun totally not intended. Not that you know about puns, so. Anyway. And all this works with the blockers because?”

“The blockers are unable to suppress the inherent magic in the same way they do the learned one. I suppose it is due to a lack of understanding of the former. What they do is prevent the more material forms of inherent magic from leaving the caster’s body. To crystallise the condensation on your leaf I simply lowered the temperature of my hand to a degree where the water began to freeze.”

Tony whistles, impressed. “That’s crafty.” Loki shrugs, blushing again, all unnecessary and misplaced modesty. “Hey, no. Look at me, Bambi. Please?” Tony asks, cupping Loki’s knees and rubbing his thumbs over them in slow, soothing circles until Loki has composed himself enough to glance up again. “This, all of this, it’s amazing. Okay? It’s, hell, it’s fucking spectacular. And we’ll get the rest back, too. We’ll find away to get those shackles off, I promise.”

“I-“ Loki squeaks, apparently completely thrown by that, so much so that he has to clear his throat twice before he’s able to talk again. “I feared you would be mad at me for not divulging this information earlier.”

There is a loud, ear-shattering crack and Tony snaps his already opening mouth shut again, head snapping up toward the darkening sky, clouds gathering rapidly between clashing thunder and bright lightening.

“About time, Big Guy,” Tony shouts over the ruckus, jumping up and starting over to the landing pad only to freeze mid-step when it isn’t Thor dropping out of the sky.

The mysteriously appearing dust-mist mix that always accompanies Thor’s arrivals clears and Tony gasps out a strangled “Fuck!” because that thing is huge and it’s charging at them and that can’t be good.

Instinctively, Tony tries to manoeuvre Loki behind his back and away from the danger, desperately pushing against Loki’s chest until he realises that Loki is doing his best to get in front of him.

“Loki, what do you-“ is as far as Tony gets and then Loki simply grabs him around the waist, angling him away from their attacker who-

Crashes into Loki’s legs with a high-pitched whine that almost sounds sad, barking until Loki crouches down and slides his hands into rusty red fur, giving it a gentle tug. The wolf, it certainly looks like a big-ass wolf, noses at Loki’s face, huffing as it licks at his face, tail wagging wildly.

“What,” Tony says, not even making it a proper question because, really, what.

The force of the smile Loki directs up at him is blinding in its intensity, unshed tears of pure happiness clinging to his lashes. “Anthony,” he gasps, taking Tony’s hand and guiding it to the wolf’s head, urging him to scratch behind its ears which makes it yip excitedly. “Meet my son, Fenrir.”

Weird, Tony decides as he gets his own dose of face-licks, his life is weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make Fenrir a [Eurasion wolf](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eurasian_wolf) in this story, it being one of the largest wolves still around today. I also didn't want to go with the standard black normally associated with "big bad wolves", so he looks somewhat like [this](https://c2.staticflickr.com/8/7210/6880309551_bded874fc9_z.jpg). (More visuals [here](https://c2.staticflickr.com/8/7179/6880309915_d517ea9efb.jpg) and [here](https://c2.staticflickr.com/8/7198/6880309767_74323d2f68_z.jpg).)
> 
> Also, JARVIS calling Loki by his first name isn't a mistake on my part or a coincidence. It will be mentioned again soon, but I think most of you who have a basic idea of how names work up in Asgard can guess as to why Loki prefers this version of being addressed.


	28. Pour some Flour on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *arrives a month late with a Thanksgiving chapter that's not even really a Thanksgiving chapter*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But I needed an excuse to get Tony and Loki into the kitchen. And I feel like I should warn that Tony does not have the most positive of opinions about the holiday. Going by the way you guys on the other side of the pond always freak out (in the positive, posting thousands of recipes and pics of delicious looking food way) about it, I thought I better mention that. 
> 
> Chapter title stolen from Def Leppard’s **['Pour Some Sugar On Me'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UIB9Y4OFPs)** and twisted to fit my purposes. 
> 
> (Speaking of good music, I got AC/DC tickets. Which is kind of a big fucking deal, all right?! Tickets went on sale at 8:00 on Tuesday morning and all 30-something-thousand were gone within six minutes. But I got mine and I’m super thrilled and it’ll be AWESOME!)

**Chapter XXVIII - Pour some Flour on Me**

* * *

“You okay over there, Brucie Bear?” Tony asks sheepishly from his position on the floor and then shamefully ducks his head when Bruce proceeds to glare at him over the rim of his cup of steaming herb-water, quickly refocusing his attention on the task in front of him.

Yes, in hindsight, the whole ‘We have a cool wolf pet now but he’s actually Loki’s son or whatever!’ situation could have been handled smoother - as in not springing the information on Bruce by barging into the room with an excitedly barking Fenrir in tow - but _oh well._

It’s not as if Tony has any experience with magical animals and okay, he might have gotten a tiny bit carried away in the heat of the moment and sort of forgot that most people wouldn’t take kindly to having a giant wolf tearing through their lab space, but Bruce turned only a little green around the eyes and Tony does feel sorry, kind of, so the combined anger of the other scientist and Loki’s slightly irritated exasperation currently directed at him are totally unjustified and extremely unfair.

Muttering sullenly to himself, Tony carefully strokes a finger down Fenrir’s muzzle, grinning when it makes the wolf sneeze and give his hand a playful lick. Ana, curled into Fenrir’s side with a colouring book open in her lap, cranes her neck to scowl at him when the movement jostles her.

“Oh, excuse me, madam,” Tony drawls and rolls his eyes, reaching out to card a hand through her curls which seems to mollify her enough to return to her drawing, the tiny drama queen. Which is behaviour Tony resolutely refuses to acknowledge might have been copied from him no matter how intensely Loki stares at him whenever Ana makes one of her scenes.

Ana is not his daughter, not really. Tony has to remind himself of that ever since Bruce called him a co-parent the other day and rendered him speech- and motionless for a good fifteen minutes. He has absolutely no claim or rights concerning her apart from that contract Tony refuses to even acknowledge exists. She’s not his and neither is Loki which, Tony thinks with an inwards groan, is a whole other set of issues he should but most likely never will address.

Better to enjoy what he has now than to be greedy and lose it all.

A cold nose is nuzzling at his arm, causing Tony to glance down into a pair of concerned black eyes peeking up at him. “So,” he begins, drawing the word out, “how is it that I know what’s going through the fleabag’s head exactly?”

Fenrir gives an offended bark at the new nickname and Tony shoots back a teasing grin.

“He projects emotions for others to pick up on and read,” Loki repeats for at least the fifth time as he walks over to join them. It’s still frustratingly unhelpful, scientifically speaking. “His gift is similar to the one Ana possesses, only reversed in its function.”

Tony makes sure to level him with his most unimpressed look to bring across just how _not_ satisfied he is with that answer. “And he’s, what did you call it, a familiar?”

“Yes,” Loki nods, absently leaning into Tony’s side and carefully tugging Fenrir’s head into his own lap to scratch behind his ears.

That was the first clarification Tony demanded after Loki had introduced Fenrir as his son because sure, he’s heard the stories, knows of the myths, and there is something cringe-worthy in there about a horse but seriously? All this is a little far-fetched even for the man who built a suit of armour in a cave in Afghanistan and fought an alien army with a nuclear missile.

“Like the frogs and cats and whatnot the witches in fairytales sometimes have?” he goes on and Loki hums affirmatively. “But you made him, you said? He’s not just some random wolf you found somewhere and magicked into being your companion or whatever?”

“I crafted him from my own essence,” Loki says, expression serious despite the utter ridiculousness of the words that are coming out of his mouth.

“This is stupid, we’re talking in circles,” Tony whines after a beat of silence, covering his face with his hands.

Loki shrugs, face apologetic. And Tony understands, to a certain degree, how impossible it must be for him to explain something that doesn’t exist on Earth and isn’t even fully explored and comprehended where people make use of it on a daily basis.

Unfortunately, that only further arouses Tony’s interest in the subject. A wolf coming into existence through magic and sharing, from what he’s gathered so far, genetic material with both Loki and Ana? An animal that’s not actually an animal at all, with very above average intelligence for its kind and the ability to, within limits, communicate telepathically?

If Tony ever goes completely crazy, not being able to figure out things like magic and wolf children will be the leading causes. Or talking to Fury, either one of those.

“Let it go, Tony,” Bruce advises knowingly, finally moving to sit on the couch behind them, the Hulk safely tucked away again for the moment. Tony tilts his head to grace him with his most betrayed pout before turning back to Fenrir.

“You,” he accuses, but not without an already forming fondness, “are an impossibility, is what you are. But at least you’re soft, so you got that going for you,” he adds and grabs a fistful of fur, giving it a gentle tug.

Fenrir preens and that, as they say, is that. 

***

Canines, apparently, shed a massive amount of hair. It gets everywhere and is a fucking nuisance.

Tony invents a cleaning bot specially designed to deal with the problem - making a pretty penny on the side - because he’s sick and tired of finding it in his food, his bed, on his clothes and, on one memorable occasion, between his butt cheeks.

Fenrir seems amused by that last one. The mutt.

***

Tony, unsurprisingly, doesn’t realise a holiday is just around the corner until Bruce gives a casual mention that he’ll be off visiting Betty’s cousin for the weekend and Tony, with a disgusted wrinkle of his nose, demands to know why.

Bruce simply raises a pointed eyebrow at him and says, “Thanksgiving, Tony.” right before the elevator doors close between them.

And Tony would dismiss the entire thing because he can overeat any time he feels like it, he doesn’t need a reason or an excuse and anyway, the pretence of celebrating a good harvest is, in Tony’s opinion, a little out-dated and besides, Manhattan isn’t exactly the centre of Western agriculture.

The Native American issue and near or entirely successful genocide of who knows how many peoples, he isn’t even going to touch that one. There’s enough shit Tony feels crushingly guilty about every single day without thinking of the cultural erasure and slaughter on which so many of the foundations of his country are built upon.

_But._ Thanksgiving also means family, or at least Tony knows it did in most households that Howard Stark hadn’t been the head of, and that is something he has now, in some form, Tony thinks as he watches Ana race her toy cars around the couch and Loki sketch quietly over at his own worktable.

The two of them aren’t his and what they have here is about as far removed from the norm as possible, but Tony likes it. A hell of a lot.

The sudden want is overwhelming and Tony digs his toes a little harder into Fenrir’s side in an attempt to ground himself, earning himself a sleepy grunt from the wolf curled up on the floor by his legs and sprawled lazily over his feet.

He has people he loves – because denying that is just futile at this point – and he finds that the prospect of spending the holiday with them, sharing this with them, is oddly compelling. Tony’s fairly sure his own less than stellar childhood and upbringing are tightly connected to this idea of creating new traditions with his chosen family, but dwelling on long-repressed memories has never done him any good, so he’s definitely not going to start now.

Abandoning his current project, Tony sheds his gloves and pushes back his goggles, pulling up a holo screen instead where he opens up a new window to shoot a message to his personal chef. Who promptly proceeds to curse him out over his last minute demands as if a turkey on the evening before Thanksgiving is the weirdest request Tony’s ever made. Honestly.

They eventually agree on turkey breasts plus all the fixings and sides to be delivered fully cooked the next day, but the pie Tony will take care of himself. Or, to be more precise, talk Loki into teaching him how to make because Loki, as it turns out, loves to bake. He claims to find it relaxing and merely rolls his eyes when Tony answers with lectures about the differences between calming and boring.

An exception can be made for once, however, Tony decides graciously. The hope that Loki will like the idea of preparing dessert together and be pleased with Tony for suggesting it has absolutely nothing to do with this foray into the culinary world. Not a single thing.

***

Tony hates baking.

It takes him less than a minute to realise that, as long as it takes Loki to cut open a pumpkin and instruct Tony to get out all the disgusting squishy bits.

Loki stubbornly tilts up his chin and crosses his arms over his chest, and Tony just knows he’s lost already, even before Loki starts with, “You are a supposed superhero,” ignoring Tony’s outraged squawk at the challenge of the status he himself always vehemently denies, “battling mighty foes, a fair share of them non-human and monstrous in appearance, yet you want me to believe you find yourself beaten by a simple garden plant?”

“It’s icky,” Tony tries and gets a dishtowel to the face for his efforts. “Rude. Seriously.”

Ana, meanwhile, is already arms deep inside the pumpkin, happily pulling out seeds Loki promised she could put in the oven to snack on later. Tony grimaces, chances another quick glance up at Loki and the sad face he’s almost one hundred percent sure is a complete fake and only in place to manipulate him, and rolls up his sleeves with a defeated sigh.

“Thank you, Anthony,” Loki smiles, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze as he breezes by on his way to the fridge, and Tony resigns himself to being completely and utterly whipped.

It’s not as bad as it sounds, though, especially not when Loki is laughing while brushing flour out of Tony’s hair after Ana thought dumping a cup full over his head was a marvellous idea, one warm hand cupping the side of Tony’s face and a thumb stroking small circles over his cheek.

***

Dinner itself is a roaring success, even though his resident aliens don’t care much for the holiday itself.

They’re finishing up the main course when Ana suddenly tenses, eyes fixed on something over Tony’s shoulder, the piece of turkey in her hand - the little cutlery refusnik - totally forgotten.

Tony turns with a ball of dread forming in his stomach and very nearly gives in to the tantrum boiling just under his skin when he spots Rhodey, standing out on the deck in the full War Machine getup with his helmet under his arm and mouth hanging open in a way that, in any other situation, would be hilarious.

“Maybe you should invite your friend in,” Loki suggests and there is an understandable note of fear in his voice, hand tightening around his glass.

“JARVIS,” Tony instructs, trusting his AI will know what he wants, before reaching out to loosen Loki’s grip, linking their fingers for a reassuring squeeze. “You’re safe, both of you. He’s not an enemy and probably only here to check up on me like the nosy, overbearing asshole he is.”

The last part comes out loud and angry, directed at Rhodey who’s making his way over to them with his lips pursed and expression unreadable.

“Showing up out of the blue wouldn’t be necessary if you answered my texts. Or calls. Or emails.”

“Take a hint, maybe?” Tony snaps, immediately feeling guilty when Ana flinches at his harsh words. He lets go of Loki to stroke a hand up and down her back instead, not taking his eyes off her as he continues to Rhodey, “What do you want?”

“To know what a-“ Rhodey begins, then looks at Ana and censors whatever he was about to say to, “what he is doing here instead of you know where.”

“Anthony,” Loki murmurs before Tony can gear up and start doing something stupid like yell, getting up and picking up a clearly confused Ana, politely excusing them and making a hasty retreat over into the kitchenette with an instruction to, “Tell him.”

“I’m not talking to you,” Tony informs Rhodey.

Rhodey doesn’t leave, not that Tony had any hope that he would, taking another step closer instead so they aren’t overheard, hissing, “What is going on? We don’t talk for a few months and you, what? Decide to shack up with a wanted war criminal and insane mass murderer? And a child? Does Pepper know what-”

“Do not bring Pepper into this,” Tony grits out, sending his chair flying as he jumps up to stab a finger at Rhodey’s chest. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“We’ve been over this, I wasn’t agreeing with what she-“

“Saying that doesn’t make it true-“

“She’s my friend, too. I tried to be supportive and-“

“Yeah, well, congratulations, she was real happy to have you on her side when-“

“There are no sides in-“

“When I fucking needed you most!” Tony finishes, fists clenched at his side to keep himself from bringing them down on the table.

There is a moment of strained silence and then Tony finds himself in a one-armed hug, protesting feebly for a couple of seconds to keep up appearances before he returns the embrace, clapping Rhodey on the back.

“Short version?” Rhodey asks when they pull apart and Tony, because he’s an asshole at heart, can’t resist the, “He’s my slave.”

Rhodey’s face is priceless. Right until Tony remembers he’s still wearing the armour and hastens to clear some things up.

By the time they’re through the impromptu Space Viking visit, the contract, Tony’s helplessness in the face of such an impossible situation, Thor’s updates version of the events surrounding the Chitauri attack, Loki’s enslavement and Ana’s conception, Rhodey is out of the suit and looking decidedly faint.

“Well, shit,” he croaks eventually, rubbing both hands over his face, and Tony can only nod in agreement because that really says it all. “That’s some fucked up shit right there.”

They both turn when Loki clears his throat, hovering anxiously with Ana perched on his hip and her face hidden away in his shoulder.

“C’mere,” Tony smiles, not entirely sure who exactly he’s talking to, but he takes a more than willing Ana and lets her snuggle up against his chest, offering his arm for Loki to slide under once he has deposited the pie on the table. “You okay, Bambi?”

“Yes,” Loki insists firmly and neither Tony nor Rhodey mention the tremble in his hands or the redness of his eyes. Visibly gathering himself, Loki graces Rhodey with a watery smile. “Loki, as I am sure you are already aware.”

“Call him Rhodey,” Tony interjects before Rhodey gets the chance to answer.

“James,” Rhodey introduces himself just to be contrary, Tony knows he prefers his nickname, “but yeah, call me Rhodey.”

_“Pie,”_ Jarvis translates one of Ana’s silent demands, making Tony bark out a shaky laugh.

“Impatient,” he softly chides the grinning girl, smacking a kiss on top of her head. To Rhodey he adds, proudly puffing out his chest, “I helped with that, you know.”

“Lord help us,” Rhodey snorts and Tony chucks a piece of bread at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two more chapters before the new year, the next one being called... 
> 
> *dramatic pause* 
> 
> ‘Sleeping Arrangements’. Yeah, that’s right, you heard me. I initially wanted to post it as a short one-shot, but eventually decided against it since it is actually somewhat important to the future plot of the story.   
> Then sometime between Christmas and New Year’s Eve we’ll have the, you guessed it, Christmas/New Year’s Eve chapter. 
> 
> Happy Holidays of whatever kind you’re celebrating. Or Happy Drinking To Endure Your Family Day, whatever.


	29. Sleeping Arrangements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas! 
> 
> Shut up, it’s the 24th over here. Like, barely. But still. Shut up. 
> 
> This chapter is short and sweet and it takes us back a little to when Loki first woke up. But I think timelines should be clear. If not, let me know.

**Chapter XXIX - Sleeping Arrangements**

* * *

Tony wakes up to JARVIS’ insistent voice in his ears, blinking blearily at the holo clock display and groaning sleepily when he sees it’s only been about an hour since he finally managed to fall into a more or less peaceful sleep - the first of its kind ever since Loki and Ana arrived, too preoccupied had he been with worrying over the unconscious deity and silent little girl before.

“Whaddya want?” Tony slurs into his pillow, trying and failing to put anything but the exhaustion he’s feeling behind the words.

He hadn’t realised just how draining the constant watching and fretting over the sedated Loki was until Bruce had declared him stable enough to wake two weeks ago and the relief of seeing him walk and talk, albeit reluctantly and with fear still lurking in his every move and word, had nearly knocked Tony off his feet right then and there.

They have made some progress in the meantime, too; Loki hasn’t slipped back into the submissive slave role for a few days now, hasn’t tried to kneel and stopped lowering his eyes every time Tony walks into the room, but Tony can tell he’s still struggling with the concept of being treated with respect and care once more.

_“Mr Loki seems to be experiencing some rather distressing dreams, sir. All my attempts to rouse him so far have been unsuccessful.”_

Tony curses, alert in an instant, and throws back the covers to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. “Vitals, J!” he snaps, sprinting out of the door and across the hall on bare feet and with the shirt he grabbed from the floor only halfway over his head.

Whatever JARVIS says in response, Tony doesn’t hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. He nearly collides with Loki’s door in his haste, but still takes the time to knock courteously in an attempt to further prove his trustworthiness concerning Loki’s privacy, and waits a moment for an answer that doesn’t come before he slowly pushes it open.

The sight that greets him is a heartbreaking one. Loki, contrary to Tony when he’s caught in his own nightmares, isn’t thrashing around or even making a lot of noise. Instead, he’s clutching the pillow he is curled around tightly to his chest, his sweat-damp hair plastered to a face even paler than usual.

What has Tony forget any lingering doubts he might have had about approaching the man in his sleep and rush to his side, however, are the quiet but no less wrecked sobs tearing their way out of Loki’s throat, the pained whines and whimpers sounding obscenely loud in the otherwise silent room.

“Loki?” Tony asks and then, when that doesn’t garner him a reaction, adds another, louder and more forceful, “Loki!”

Still nothing.

Rubbing a hand through his hair and nervously chewing his bottom lip, Tony reduces the remaining distance between himself and the bed, reaching out a tentative hand to give Loki’s shoulder a gentle shake. “Loki, hey. Wake up, Bambi.”

This time, the effect is instantaneous. Loki surges up and his eyes snap open, glassy and unfocused, chest heaving with wet, wheezing breaths.

Unsurprisingly, the very first thing out of his mouth is a choked, “Apologies, master.”

And while Tony still cringes every time he hears that word, aches with the knowledge of what has been done to the once proud Asgardian to reduce him to this frightened mess of a man, while he hates every single person involved in this with a searing, terrifying passion, Loki in the here and now is more important than any of that.

“You’re safe, Loki, you’re safe,” Tony whispers, ignoring the initial flinch he receives when he takes Loki’s trembling hands between his own, giving them a soothing squeeze as he brushes his thumbs over Loki’s knuckles. “I’ve got you, you’re safe. You’re safe and Ana is safe, too,” he babbles on repeat until Loki heaves a last, shuddering breath and pulls away, hunching his shoulders and bringing up his legs, hugging them against his chest.

“I did not mean to disturb you,” he says hoarsely, burying his face in his knees. “I apologise.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” Tony is quick to reassure, staring down into his lap, unsure how to proceed now that Loki is back to himself and obviously, going by the flush Tony can just make out on his cheeks, embarrassed to have been caught in such a vulnerable position again. “Anything I can do? You want some water? A scotch?”

Loki shakes his head but doesn’t look up.

Tony takes a minute to consider, then asks, “Do you want me to stay for a bit?” and tries not to feel too disappointed when that only gets him a muffled, negating sort of grunt.

He understands, he really does, how exposed Loki must feel right now, so he gets up, however reluctant he may be to do so, but can’t help but hover for a moment. A wave of helplessness crashes over him as he watches the tense lines of Loki’s back, the forced casualness with which he holds himself and that tells Tony that another breakdown is imminent, will probably happen as soon as he leaves the room.

“Don’t hesitate to come get me if you need me, all right?” he asks, knowing full well that Loki will do no such thing but hoping that, somehow, there is some consolation to be found in the question itself. “Or have JARVIS call me, whatever. It’s fine. Okay?”

A sluggish nod, more of a head-loll, from Loki and Tony turns, heads out and keeps moving even when he hears the sobs start up again, blinking rapidly against the moisture in his own eyes.

***

It becomes a sad sort of ritual after that first night, JARVIS informing Tony about Loki’s night terrors so Tony can go and wake him up, sit with him until the worst of the shakes have passed.

He always extends the offer to stay and Loki never takes him up on it.

Until he does.

Tony is momentarily thrown but recovers quickly, settling in against the headboard while Loki nestles in, covers tugged up to his neck.

After that, Tony takes to waiting for Loki to fall asleep again, quietly tiptoeing into the bathroom to get a glass of water before he retires to his own bed.

***

It shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does, Tony thinks as he gasps for air, to find their roles reversed, Loki peering at him worriedly from where he’s crouching next to Tony’s bed.

He screws his eyes shut, a pathetic little sniffle escaping him completely without his permission when Loki straightens up, only to be transformed into a shaky smile when he feels the mattress dip.

Loki retrieves the blanket Tony kicked away and effectively tucks Tony in, making him chuckle fondly as he burrows into the sheets with a tired sigh.

Tony doesn’t remember falling asleep again and when he wakes up, Loki is gone. But Tony is glad to know he was there at all.

***

There are long, delicate fingers threaded through his own when Tony wakes up one morning, his fuzzy brain taking much too long to come up with the realisation that Loki is snoring softly, and adorably, on the pillow next to his.

The covers are bunched up between them in what Tony recognises as a security measure to keep him away on the far side of the bed, the only contact their linked hands.

“J,” Tony whispers, unable to tear his eyes away from the calm, steady rise and fall of Loki’s chest, “what happened?”

_“Mr Loki had trouble sleeping and decided to seek you out before I was able to alert you. I assumed this to be in agreement with all parties involved.”_

Tony frowns, absently stroking a finger back and forth over Loki’s wrist. “Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks, JARVIS.”

Loki came to him. Loki needed comfort and he came to _Tony_.

The smile spreading across Tony’s face at that is positively giddy.

***

When Loki’s nightmares wake him, he sneaks into Tony’s bed. Tony approves wholeheartedly of this new development.

The occasional night soon turns into several every week until Tony notices, grinning stupidly at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, that he can’t remember the last time Loki wasn’t there with him in the morning.

***

The blanket barrier vanishes, replaced with the warmth of Loki tucked right up next to Tony every night.

***

There are two ways Tony falls asleep; either face down after staying up for days on end, or with a tablet on his chest and the reading glasses he despises hanging hazardously off one ear.

Loki, depending on Tony’s current sprawl, either plasters himself against Tony’s back all limpet-y, or snuggles up close with his face in Tony’s hair and an arm slung across his stomach after carefully placing glasses and computer on the bedside table.

Tony’s favourite position, however, is the once they decide on the first time they go to bed simultaneously.

There’s an initial moment of awkwardness after Tony declares that he’s off for the night and asks, thrown casually over his shoulder in Loki’s direction, “You coming?” and Loki nods, getting up to follow before they both freeze, staring at each other because they don’t talk about this.

Eventually, though, Tony shakes himself out of it and shrugs, shooting Loki a small, amused grin because really, Loki would have joined him later anyway. And Loki knows it, too, lips curving up into an answering smile as he gestures for Tony to take the lead.

An oddly warm feeling spreads through Tony’s chest when there is no hesitation once they reach the bedroom, Loki spooning up behind Tony, one arm under Tony’s head and the other over his waist, nose tickling the back of Tony’s neck as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for a Norse deity and Iron Man to cuddle up together at the end of the day.

And it is, Tony thinks contentedly as he gropes for Loki’s free hand so he can link their fingers, the most normal thing in Tony’s otherwise crazy life.

***

Ana, in stark contrast to her father, is a terrible sleeping companion.

She’s wriggly and restless, digging pointy elbows and knees into Tony’s most sensitive areas and stuffing sticky, cold fingers up shirt or freezing feet down his pants.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he grumbles, catching the giggling girl to tug her in, tuck her against his chest where she shuffles around for another moment before settling down, little face pressed into the crook of his neck. “Satisfied, missy?”

Tony takes the drawn-out hum as a yes, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “Sleep.”

Loki smiles into his shoulder.

***

Fenrir drools and has the annoying tendency to sprawl out across Tony’s feet until they tingle with static.

Tony never complains.

But he does need a bigger bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more Frostiron (because who doesn't want more Frostiron?!) go check out my contribution to the 2014 Frostiron Fest, [It Just Sort Of Happened](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2819864). 
> 
> It's a sad, angsty teen!AU one-shot and I would be thrilled to get some feedback on it. 
> 
> Also, if you'd like, go and have a look at my piece for the MarvelRarePairExchange, [It’s Hard to Believe in Coincidence](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2821034).
> 
> The main pairing there is Tony/Loki/Thor, but it's fun and there is some Tony/Loki in it. And Thor and Loki aren't actually related because no. No. No!


	30. Say My Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, you guys!
> 
> Those of you following me on tumblr know that I’m pretty sick and how much trouble this chapter gave me. I restarted it about a half dozen times and finally just finished it somehow (even though I don’t particularly like how it turned out) because I was so fed up with. 
> 
> So, yeah. The next update shouldn’t take this long and will, hopefully, be better. Which reminds me - the rest of the Avengers will make their first appearance!

**Chapter XXX - Say My Name**

* * *

Loki pauses in the doorway to the living area, a fond smile tugging up one corner of his mouth at the sight of Anthony lounging comfortably on the wide sofa, leaning back against the armrest with Fenrir sprawled across his chest and arching lazily into the hand Anthony is petting over his head.

“I know it’s not ideal,” Anthony sighs, a hint of genuine apology in his voice, scratching under Fenrir’s chin. “But it’s all I’ve got right now. And it’s better than nothing.”

Fenrir gives a low, exaggerated whine, flattening his ears back against his skull in what Loki knows perfectly well to be an attempt at manipulation that renders his features much softer, younger and almost puppyish.

Anthony, it seems, has not yet developed an immunity against this most transparent of tricks.

“Look, I’m trying, all right?” he huffs, aiming for aloof, but Loki can sense the traces of guilt underneath the forced nonchalance. “But Manhattan isn’t the most suitable of places for big-ass wolves to go running around freely. With this,” he gestures in the general direction of the low table and what he had explained earlier to Loki were fake permits and papers for dog owners strewn hazardously across it, “we can take you out without me getting arrested or you being hunted down by animal control, at least.”

And his pup must recognise the shift in mood as well, since he stretches to snuffle and lick at Anthony’s cheek which makes Anthony snort out a laugh and, despite the grimace taking over his features, playfully bat his hands at Fenrir.

“That will never not be disgusting,” Anthony informs Fenrir, grinning smugly but otherwise ignoring Fenrir’s mock-offended bark as he adds, “Personally, I’ve always preferred cats.”

The high-pitched shriek escaping Anthony when Fenrir, suddenly and without warning, presses the cold tip of his nose against the vulnerable skin of his neck has Loki clasp a hand over his mouth to muffle the bout of fond chuckles he can feel bubbling up his throat.

It is strange yet oddly wonderful, Loki muses, how far their living together and interacting with each other has shifted and changed for the better and more comfortable in the relatively short time of the three full moons Loki and Ana - with the even more recent addition of Fenrir - have been staying in Anthony’s home.

Loki absently touches a hand to his neck, rubbing his thumb over the scar of the worst laceration that was left behind by the collar his former master had insisted he wear at all times.

Most of his physical injuries have healed to a degree where they do not bother him or limit his movements anymore, merely the deepest gashes on his back still causing him some discomfort now and again.

Reinforcing collars, whips and other instruments of punishment and control with magic is common practice on most realms, keeping the lower classes docile and in order with a minimal amount of effort and work.

And while it is tedious and painful having to reapply sutures due to the spells that won’t allow some of his wounds to close properly, Loki would choose what caused them over that hated strip of leather around his neck without hesitation.

The memories of his arrival at Anthony’s tower are hazy at best, as is the first little while after he woke, but Loki can recall several incidents of himself acting under the influence of the collar’s lingering magic cursing through his body and warping mind.

Even now Anthony does not have his complete trust, for that it is too early. Relearning to read other individuals, to not rely on the collar telling him that serving his masters is the way to find peace is difficult and some days Loki still struggles, especially with the distinction between the urge to please that was forced upon him and the itching need to be good to Anthony which Loki suspects is entirely his own.

The realisation that there is true affection under all the hurt and confusion, that an ill-advised attachment is in the making frightens Loki immensely.

Anthony has been nothing if not generous and accommodating so far, behaviour which Loki appreciates and loathes in equal measures. Having been sent to Midgard of all places and given over to Anthony was a blessing, while the manner in which Anthony treats not only Loki himself but also those most dear to him leave Loki helpless to the growing fondness inside his chest.

And that is where the danger lies. Loki is starting to know himself and his own emotions again, he can predict the direction they are going to take, and there is not a single thing he is able to do and stop them. Loki is enamoured and the man his heart is set on is the one person who has a literal hold on his life in form of a signed parchment and the Allfather’s word.

It makes finding out whether there is even a chance of his feelings being returned seem like a laughably simple feat.

With a wary sigh, Loki pushes himself away from where he is leaning against the wall, revelling in the traitorous warmth spreading through him when Anthony spots him, brown eyes sparkling happily, and immediately holds out an arm in invitation for Loki to join him.

***

After the initial freak-out upon realising that, with Halloween and Thanksgiving being out of the way, Christmas and the time for presents - which Tony is not good at selecting, as previous experiences have made painfully clear - is now fast approaching, Tony finds that he, much to his own surprise, actually has a fairly good idea of what his delightfully non-average family would appreciate and enjoy.

Shopping for Ana, especially, is easy since, after Tony explains that gifts will be involved, she simply shows him what she wants, circling things in the toy catalogues mysteriously appearing all around the penthouse or running up to him with a tablet in hand and pointing excitedly.

Rhodey intervenes after he sees the list Tony has been steadily adding to, pinching the bridge of his nose as he crosses out the more outrageous and extravagant ideas - seriously, what good is a playhouse without electricity and touch screens? - and adds what he calls sensible things such as hair accessories and clothes.

Tony whines and complains extensively, pointing out that he’s constantly buying her those anyway, to which Rhodey only replies that, “It’s about learning moderation, one of those skills you refuse to acknowledge even exist but everyone around you wishes you’d exercise more often.”

There’s pouting and squabbling and, eventually, a fight over the list that ends with Rhodey pinning Tony to the floor and Tony mercilessly pinching the ticklish spot under Rhodey’s ribs, both of them shouting and snorting and giggling like the mature adults they are.

Which is when Loki walks into the room, taking a good, long look at them before shrugging and curling up in one of the armchairs, pulling his hair up into a bun and opening his book as if two grown men rolling around on the ground is an everyday occurrence and nothing out of the ordinary.

It warms Tony, the fact that Loki has grown comfortable enough around him to either ignore or, if there’s a threat of them getting out of control, even calm Tony’s crazy spells by allowing Tony to either talk his ear off or wrap himself around him until his brain is back to its normal, only slightly manic self.

“Could you try being any more obvious?” Rhodey deadpans from above him and Tony flicks him in his stupid, sarcastic face because he totally deserves it.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, _James_ ,” he sniffs haughtily, earning himself the flattest possible look and a longsuffering sigh before Rhodey jumps up, muttering about emotional constipation which is just rude.

At least he’s not pointing out that, technically, Loki is still an enemy of the state. Or singing about the two of them sitting in a tree and kissing. Again. That got _really_ old _really_ fast.

Heaving himself up much less gracefully than Rhodey and scowling at the back of his friend’s retreating head because of that fact, Tony drags himself over to collapse on the couch with a tired groan.

Loki is just close enough that he can reach out and squeeze his foot, gently pressing his thumb into its sole. “Ana okay?”

“Asleep,” Loki hums, smiling at Tony over the rim of his book, eyes taking in his dishevelled clothes and probably catastrophically messy hair. “Are _you_ well, Anthony?”

Tony yawns dismissively, closing his eyes and snuggling into the cushion as Loki returns to his reading, grinning to himself when threading his fingers through the gaps between Loki’s toes makes Loki’s leg twitch.

The domesticity of the situation and their respective positions isn’t lost on Tony, but instead of feeling scary and confining like it would have not too long ago, Tony finds himself lulled into a peaceful doze to the sound of turning pages and Loki’s quiet breathing.

***

Before he leaves to go visit his own family, Rhodey is - under loud protest - roped into helping Tony with Loki’s present, Tony trying and failing miserably at trying to look innocent when Rhodey reminds him that what they’re doing is so wrong, it’s somewhere way beyond treason.

It doesn’t stop either of them from doing it, though.

Tony is crushed once he realises it won’t be ready in time, but he’s saved by a backup plan coming to him during a dream about sentient candy floss - he can’t, for the life of him, figure out the connection - that has him tripping over a confused Loki and nearly falling out of bed in his haste to get to his office.

Yeah, Tony preens as he, with his gift under one arm, digs through his workshop for the perfect-sized box, he’s a fucking genius all right.

***

“No,” Tony groans, grabbing the excitedly bouncing Ana around the waist without bothering to open his eyes. “Too early. Go back to sleep. Christmas can wait.”

Undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm, Ana continues to wriggle in his hold and dig her icy feet into his stomach, finally turning around to pester Loki after a few more minutes of being a tiny pain in the ass.

Loki seems similarly unwilling to get up before dawn, whispering softly in answer to Ana’s increasingly annoyed whines. Their saving grace is that it really is obscenely early, meaning the girl is still tired enough to be coaxed back to sleep by the soothing rumble of Loki’s voice and Tony carding his fingers through her hair.

The second time Tony wakes up it’s to an insistent _“Papa!”_ that leaves him frowning into his pillow until his brain fires up enough to connect the dots, at which point he practically shoots upright to see Ana perched in Loki’s lap and Loki staring back at her, awed and comically slack-jawed.

Tony can’t keep his face from splitting into a giddy, delighted grin, propping himself up on one elbow to stroke a hand down Ana’s back. “Good morning, starshine.”

“Tony,” Ana promptly replies to the collective release of shaky breaths from both Tony and Loki, giggling and rolling over to press herself against Tony’s leg.

There’s a shared, disbelieving glance over her head, Loki’s eyes suspiciously shiny, before Tony all but pounces on Ana, pulling her close and tickling her sides to make her squeal with laughter.

“Say that again,” Tony demands and Ana does, her smile smug and proud, leaning into the kisses Tony peppers over her forehead and cheeks. Pointing at Loki he asks, “And who’s that?”

“Papa,” she hums, making grabby hands until Loki snaps out of his shock and pulls her back against his chest, burying his face in her curls while she chants happily, “Papa, papa, papa, papa!”

Which is when JARVIS pipes up with a cheerful, _“Good morning, Miss Ana, and may I express what a joy it is to hear your lovely voice.”_

Ana scrunches up her face, then decides, “Yes.”

It’s another half hour filled with testing Ana's vocabulary - including but not restricted to Papa, Tony, yes, no, bacon and, of course, present - before they make it out of the bedroom and to the pile of gifts sitting under the first Christmas tree Tony has bothered to put up in decades.

There are a few ornaments hanging from the branches, but most of the decorations consist of whatever Ana and, much to Tony’s secret amusement, Loki decided to be suitably festive. The top, instead of holding up a star or angel, is covered by one of Tony’s helmet prototypes because Ana insisted it was pretty and Tony is narcissistic enough to agree and love seeing part of himself looking back at him every time he walks through his living room. 

The popcorn chains Bruce taught Ana how to make, however, are mostly eaten. Fenrir is the main suspect.

“All right,” Tony declares, clapping his hands together, “knock yourselves out, kids!”

He doesn’t have to say it twice. He settles on the couch with Loki and Ana starts unwrapping, making little exclamations of surprise and joy from time to time, while Fenrir is already devouring his own gift of beef jerky.

Halfway through the pile, Ana suddenly picks up two of the colourful boxes and carries them over to Tony, dumping them in his lap with an expectant expression on her face.

“For me?” Tony asks, genuinely touched, and Ana nods shyly, rolling back onto the balls of her feet.

The toolset that’s revealed when he peels back the paper is a simple affair, but Ana had apparently made it her mission to add a personal touch by covering every last inch of it with drawings, stickers and red and gold glitter.

It’s a shame he rarely gets to use his tools outside his workshop, Tony thinks and tries desperately to swallow around the lump in his throat, because this needs to be shown off.

“This now,” Ana thankfully interrupts his momentary mental breakdown, shoving the second present at him again, tapping it and declaring, “Papa.”

“You-“ is all Tony manages, glancing at Loki who smiles encouragingly which doesn’t help with the onslaught of overwhelming emotions of the ‘does not know how to deal with’ category.

So Tony hands over the box containing his gift for Loki, studiously keeping his eyes on what he’s doing because he has no fucking clue how to react to what appears to be his first Family Christmas in pretty much ever.

Ana goes back to her new toys as Tony stares down at the framed sketch of himself and the girl, her perched on his shoulders with a pair of goggles pushed up into her hair and both of them covered in oil and grease.

They had been playing around with one of the cars, taking apart the engine so Tony could explain to his eager student how everything worked and went together, Loki busying himself at his table across the shop with, apparently, drawing the two of them.

A sharp intake of breath from his right saves Tony from making an idiot out of himself by failing to overcome his speechlessness.

Loki is already watching him when Tony looks over at him, his expression scared but hopeful, the hands clutching the contract to his chest white-knuckled and trembling.

Clearing his throat and ducking his head, Tony traces the seam of his sweatpants and gives a little, one-shouldered shrug. “It’s yours. I know giving it to you won’t really change anything, but I don’t want it. You’re welcome here, I like having you here, all of you. But you don’t belong to me, I don’t want that. You’re my guest and my friend, I hope, and thank you, for the picture, it’s awesome, it’s perfect, and you’re welcome to stop me any time because I’m rambling -“

Loki carefully taking Tony’s hands and linking their fingers together with a brief, gentle squeeze does the trick, Tony letting himself fall sideways to press his forehead against Loki’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into the fabric of Loki’s shirt where he’s going to stay until the heat he can feel in his cheeks is gone, because Tony Stark does not blush, no way.

Loki murmurs his own shaky thanks into Tony’s hair, the roll of parchment between them, and neither of them moves until Ana clambers up onto the couch and drapes herself over Tony’s back in demand for breakfast.

***

“Boom,” Ana mouths, awed, tucked in between Tony and Loki under a thick blanket on the outdoor lounger, wide eyes trained on the bright colours high up in the sky.

“Happy New Year,” Tony cheers, ruffling her hair and blinking innocently down at her when she turns an outraged glare at him. Bumping his elbow against Loki’s side he adds, quieter but all the more sincere, “It’s going to be good. I’ll make sure of it.”

In reply, Loki tightens the arm he has around Tony and tugs him closer to rest his cheek against the top of Tony’s head with a content little hum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a fever dream about sentient candy floss. Please don’t ask. It was... weird. 
> 
> Also, going by the Julian calendar, New Year’s was only just a few days ago, so I’m not actually all that late with my Christmas/New Year chapter. Shut up, it’s totally a good excuse. 
> 
> Last but not least, I know some of you read my Tony/Bucky (winteriron) series [Holding On](http://archiveofourown.org/series/155609) and if you do, you might want to check out my new tumblr [imaginetonyandbucky](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/) where you can send in prompts and receive mini-ficlets in turn. It’s fun, I promise!


	31. Avengers Assemble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised; new people, including the rest of the Avengers! Yay! 
> 
> I’ve also hinted at some of the background pairings that will feature (a little, not much) in this story from now on. If you can’t spot them or want to spoil yourself, I put them in the end note, too. 
> 
> What else? I’m terrible at writing fight scenes, so I decided to be lazy and skipped it. Oops. Warning for some non-graphic torture, although it’s way less twisted and disturbing than some of the other things I’ve already put Loki through, so. Yeah. 
> 
> Whatever, go read the fucking chapter.

**Chapter XXXI - Avengers Assemble**

* * *

Ana gets sick and Tony does not - no matter what Bruce, Rhodey, Loki and several intimidatingly bitchy women on a mommy message board might say - freak out and overreact by barging into Bruce’s lab with Ana under one arm and a dozen pages with WebMD diagnoses, each more horrible and fatal than the last, clutched in his free and wildly waving hand.

Well, he _does_ do that, but it’s Tony’s first time co-raising a child, one that doesn’t even belong to the same species as him, so he really can’t be blamed for doing the completely appropriate thing, thank you very much, when he picks Ana up after her nap and she’s all hot and sweaty and lethargic and possibly _dying_.

“She’s got a cold, Tony,” Bruce repeats patiently, gently pressing some gauze to the tiny prick in the crook of Ana’s arm while the girl ponders over which Avengers band-aid to choose. “Unpleasant, yes, but perfectly manageable. If there’s anything else, we’ll know once the tests get back in a couple of hours, but I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Tony, hovering anxiously behind the examination table, stubbornly raises his chin. “Better safe than sorry,” he insists, ignoring Bruce’s insultingly indulgent smile, and preens a little when Ana decides on the red and gold Iron Man band-aid.

“Fair enough,” Bruce allows. “But I think it’s safe to assume that we’re not dealing with smallpox,” he points out, amused, gesturing to one of the printouts, “since they’ve been considered to be eradicated since the late seventies.”

“Yeah, all right, Doctor Smug,” Tony huffs, slightly mollified by the way Ana leans into his side to stick a bright blue Captain America plaster to an old soldering burn on his forearm, “laugh it up.” 

“I will do that, thank you,” Bruce replies sweetly and expertly ducks the tongue depressor Tony chucks at his head.

But even though Bruce’s original assumption proves to be correct and Ana isn’t suffering from anything serious, Tony can’t quit his worrying and to constantly check up on the girl over the next couple of days, going so far as to leave a meeting halfway through when JARVIS texts him that her cough has gotten worse.

The only thing keeping Tony from getting up half a dozen times every night to make sure Ana is still breathing is Loki's octopus-inspired way of sleeping all curled up around Tony and Tony’s reluctance to wake him by slipping out of bed.

Loki’s recovery, at least the physical aspect of it, has been going relatively well, but it’s taking a lot out of him, Tony knows, and he tires easily and is often exhausted to an extent where he’s barely responsive anymore at the end of the day.

Bruce, and by extension Tony, are also concerned about his weight and, after a lot of prodding, they'd managed to get to the bottom of Loki’s reluctance to eat, especially meats, which wasn’t at all pretty to hear.

Knowing his true heritage, Loki’s former owner - and one of these days Tony will be able to think about this without cringing, but today is not that day - had used Loki’s natural weakness to heat in his creatively sick punishments and yeah, Tony would think twice about eating steak, too, if he’d been forced to live off his own burnt skin for weeks at a time or starve to death before.

He’s still not a huge fan of showers or any other activities that involve his head being under water, after all, and it has been nearly a decade for him.

But, as ugly as all of that is and as much as Rhodey teases him over his mother hen behaviour whenever he calls, Tony thinks they’re making progress, all of them, toward being better. Not good yet, but definitely better.

Which is, of course, when the next big crisis in form of a wannabe super villain group going by the ridiculous name U-Foes blowing up half of Madison Square Garden and taking everyone in it hostage arrives.

The Avengers move out and the chaos is big enough that halfway through the fight the Fantastic Four make an appearance and Spider Man shows up with his crazy, unkillable and extremely annoying shadow in tow.

Strange is floating around somewhere, too, but Tony’s too busy trying to overcharge X-Ray to slow down and mock his stupid cape. Which is a shame, really, because it’s not only a safety hazard - listen to Edna Mode, people - but also a terrible fashion choice and totally deserves to be made fun of.

In the end, they manage to corner all four baddies long enough for Agent and his new team to stun them with their night-night guns and put them away in their inconspicuously conspicuous black vans.

The hostages are in shock but mostly unhurt and there aren’t any casualties, the worst of the damage being the caved in part of the hall and the cuts and bruises on the good guys. Cap may have dislocated his shoulder at one point, but it’s hard to say with his enhanced healing and martyr complex that prevents him from calling anything that’s not actively killing him in.

No one is particularly keen on going to not-SHIELD medical and Tony has a perfectly good infirmary in his tower, so the logical conclusion is for the Avengers plus entourage to meet there for patching up and debriefing.

Tony is on his way home, circling around skyscrapers and ducking under bridges at full speed to get rid of the post-battle adrenaline, when another alert pops up on the HUD.

“If you’re going to tell me that we’ve got another emergency,” he groans, shaking out the leg that got caught under some falling debris earlier, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

JARVIS sounds oddly nervous, his voice urgent. _“Sir, there is a situation at the tower that requires your immediate attention.”_

“ETA two minutes, what’s going on?” Tony demands and gives his thrusters an extra boost, searing past a group of excitedly waving kids and throwing a quick peace sign over his shoulder.

_“A confrontation between Mr Loki and the team is currently-“_

It’s only years of practice that save Tony from colliding with the closest building. “Fuck,” he grits out as he corrects his trajectory, climbing higher until he can spot the penthouse’s landing platform. “Why didn’t you warn me? Or him, for that matter? And how the hell did they get there before me?”

_“I apologise, sir, but their arrival was rather sudden and aided by Doctor Strange. They were teleported directly to the medical floor.”_

“Fucking magic,” Tony spits, slowing down to touch down. “Tell them I’m coming and that I’m not above using the defensive knock-out gas if they don’t behave.”

_“I’ll be sure to relay the message,”_ JARVIS says, amused now, but Tony isn’t listening anymore, already running into the elevator, the only thing going through his mind a frantic loop of Loki’s name.

The eight seconds it takes to get down to the infirmary seem like half an eternity and Tony nearly stumbles out into the hallway in his hurry, already hearing the shouting voices coming from one of the examination rooms.

He’s panting by the time he finally reaches the others, allowing himself only a brief glance around the assembled group before he steps between Loki and Natasha, carefully guiding away the knife she has pressed to Loki’s jugular and then raising both his hands in what he hopes is a placating move.

“What do you think you’re doing, Stark?” Natasha hisses angrily and Bucky, metal arm secured firmly around Loki’s chest from behind, tightens his hold.

“All right, everyone calm down,” Tony says slowly, very aware of how little it would take for the situation to escalate completely. “I can explain. And you can let go,” he adds to Bucky who does, reluctantly, after a nodded okay from Cap.

“Tony?” Steve asks tensely, shoulders straight and jaw set, but doesn’t press further when Tony shoots him a pleading look.

Ignoring everyone’s stares boring into his back, Tony turns to face Loki, placing one hand over his wildly beating heart and gently taking his chin with the other, tilting his head down to inspect his split lip.

“Are you hurt?” he whispers quietly, tapping a finger against Loki’s cheek when he doesn’t answer at first. “Hey, Loki. Are you okay?”

Loki doesn’t give a verbal reply, but he does reach out to touch a bruise on Tony’s forehead, eyes flickering over Tony’s face to assess the rest of the damage.

Tony can’t help but smile at that, moving his hand from Loki’s chest to his upper arm, giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, I’m fine, too. Just a little banged up. Where’s Ana?”

That finally manages to get through, making Loki blink owlishly for a few moments before he lets out a heavy sigh and closes his eyes, visibly trying to compose himself. “Ana is in her room. We are out of medicine, I was attempting to get more.”

“Who’s Ana?” Steve wants to know and damn him and his super soldier hearing.

Bracing himself, Tony turns and sees everyone twitch when Loki presses up close to his back and drapes his arms over Tony’s shoulders, towering protectively despite the fear and uncertainty Tony can read in the rigidness of his posture.

“How about this,” Tony begins, taking a deep, steadying breath. “We all go up to the communal floor, get some drinks and snacks, while Loki gets Ana for a round of introductions?”

“Why would we do that?” Natasha demands, fingers still curled around the hilt of her knife. “You are clearly compromised, harbouring an enemy of the state-“

“Look,” Tony interrupts tersely, “I’m not stupid, I know how this looks, but this is my tower and Loki is my guest, one Bruce will vouch for as soon as he wakes up from his post-Hulk powernap, so you can either do as asked and get an explanation or you can get the fuck out, easy as that.”

Unlike most of the others, Tony isn’t surprised in the least that it’s Clint who eventually speaks up. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to listen,” the archer shrugs, giving Steve a friendly clap on the back. “And the day I say no to Stark’s fancy scotch is the day you should start worrying, so. Upstairs?”

“Yes,” Steve agrees and Natasha sneers, spinning on her heel and storming off, muttering Russian curses that make Bucky choke through his attempt at holding back his laughter and hide his face away in Johnny’s neck, probably providing translations going by the matchstick’s growing grin, while Sam slips out after her to do some damage control.

“We’ll be right there,” Tony says pointedly and Steve, bless the man and his harmony loving nature, takes the hint and starts herding his still giggling doppelganger and ex-dead best friend out toward the elevator.

Which leaves only Clint who’s shifting from one foot to the other and back, uncharacteristically fidgety and clearly having some kind of internal debate with himself. “Don’t think I’m not still pissed at you, because I totally am,” he tells Loki eventually, “but if what I saw while we were connected was anywhere close to what actually happened, there was more shit going down than any of us knew about and listening to what you’ve got to say is the least we can do.”

Loki doesn’t say anything, but whatever expression he’s wearing must be enough, because Clint gives him the tiniest of smiles, flips off Tony - practically a gesture of pure, undying love between them - and leaves to join the rest of the team.

The moment everyone is out of sight, Loki slumps against Tony, letting out a shaky breath, and only just waits for Tony to turn back to him before wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Tony’s hair, holding on tightly and trembling all over.

“No one is going to take you away, Bambi, I promise,” Tony whispers and Loki squirms even closer, tucking his nose behind Tony’s ear to mumble back a quiet but trusting, “I believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two minor pairings I decided to include: Sam/Natasha and Bucky/Johnny Storm. Why? Don’t ask me, it just sort of happened. If you like them, that’s great, but don’t worry if you don’t, they will only pop up every now and again for some fun shenanigans. Especially Bucky and Johnny. Is there a ship name for those two? I suddenly love the idea of Bucky and Johnny, are they a thing? They totally need to be a thing!


	32. Only a Fool Would Say That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for leaving you hanging, guys. Have a slightly longer chapter to make up for it! 
> 
> Title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mA4-SYG0OWA) by Steely Dan.

**Chapter XXXII - Only a Fool Would Say That**

* * *

“We don’t have to do this,” Tony insists, choosing to ignore the fact that yes, they totally have to do this, making an apologetic noise when the first touch of the antiseptic wipe makes Loki hiss and instinctively flinch away from it.

Somehow, Loki makes his answering eyebrow quirk look unimpressed, annoyed and slightly amused all wrapped into one freaky multi-expression. It’s kind of impressive, for a tiny patch of hair.

“And what alternative are you suggesting, Anthony?” he asks, this time merely tensing when Tony returns to cleaning the cut in his lip.

And shit, his eyes are huge from down where Tony’s kneeling between his legs - something he’s trying very hard not to think about in a dirty manner - and there’s absolutely no mistaking the genuine fear and desperation in them.

“Don’t use logic on me,” Tony complains, which at least makes Loki huff out a small laugh, tired as it may be. “All right, fine. We do have to do this. _We._ I’ll be there the entire time and, I don’t know, glare at everyone and make condescending comments, stuff like that.”

“I am sure you will,” Loki smiles and tugs at Tony’s sleeve, urging him up from the floor so he can wrap his arms around Tony, apparently unbothered that Tony is practically in his lap now.

Which is not exactly helping with the inappropriate thoughts situation.

Thankfully, it only last a couple of seconds, though, before Loki is gently pushing at Tony’s shoulders and Tony moves back, offering Loki a hand and pulling him to his feet, too.

“You ready?”

Loki’s smile is brittle. “Not in the slightest, no.”

“Yeah, stupid question. C’mere,” Tony sighs and draws him in again, brushing the lightest of kisses over Loki’s temple. Given the circumstances, Tony figures he’ll be forgiven for taking the liberty to do so. “Whatever happens in there, I won’t let them hurt you or take you away, okay? It’s not going to happen, it’s not an option.”

He can feel Loki’s shuddering exhale against the skin of his neck and, after one more mostly self-indulgent squeeze, they reluctantly step apart.

“You got this,” Tony promises, throwing in a thumbs-up for good measure, and guides Loki to the elevator with a hand on the small of his back. “I know you do.”

***

Calling the silence hanging between them as they all wait for Loki to get back with Ana tense or awkward would be the understatement of the century.

Tony knows this conversation is going to get ugly, knows how much he does not want to sit here having to listen to the story of Loki’s torment yet again and be judged about the decisions he’s made over the last few months by the people who are supposed to be his friends, but it’s definitely relief he feels when he finally hears Loki’s returning footsteps and quiet murmurs coming down the hall.

Loki is understandably hesitant as he hovers in the doorway, automatically hunching in on himself and turning sideways to shield Ana from everyone’s prying eyes and curious glances by putting himself between her and the room.

Ana, however, has other plans, squirming in her father’s arms until she can peek over his shoulder, face splitting into a huge smile when she spots Tony walking toward them.

“Hey there, cupcake,” Tony can’t help but grin back, her cheerful enthusiasm contagious as always and exactly what Tony needs right now. “How’s your throat, baby girl?”

“Hurts,” she rasps, making grabby hands at him and sighing happily as Tony settles her on his hip, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and proceeding to cough wetly into his neck.

Tony pulls a face but carefully strokes her back in an attempt to ease some of the pain, kissing the top of her head while Loki slips out of the room again to finally get the cough syrup that started this whole disaster.

“All right,” Tony exclaims, forcing himself to sound light and unconcerned for Ana’s sake, shifting the girl so she can see the rest of the wide-eyed and for once eerily quiet group of people. “Introductions! Ana, sweetheart, I’ve told you about my friends, the Avengers, the people I work with, do you remember?”

And Ana, bless her magic instincts or voodoo senses or whatever causes her do to what she does next, immediately focuses all her charm on the one person who, luckily enough, is not only the team leader but also the most susceptible to adorable little kids.

Especially, or so Tony figures, if that adorable little kid’s life literally depends on whether or not she and her father are allowed to stay with Tony for the foreseeable future.

“Captain America,” Ana breathes, awed, gaze flickering from Steve’s face to his shield and back up again and yup, there it is, Tony can practically see Steve’s posture growing less rigid, the softness creeping into his otherwise stoic expression.

Score!

He’ll feel bad about exploiting Ana’s cuteness once they’ve all survived the evening.

“He’s tall,” Ana observes, then her attention shifts to Bucky and she gasps, asking him very seriously and without a hint of worry or apprehension, “Are you a robot?”

Bucky opens his mouth, closes it again, shrugs, brings up his prosthetic to wriggle his fingers at her and allows, “Partly, yeah.”

“Tony,” Steve says, questioning, but at least he’s no longer poised for a fight.

“Okay, yeah. Moving on,” Tony nods, pointing at Johnny. “He’s unimportant, feel free to completely ignore him-“

“Hey!” Johnny protests and, as suggested by himself, Tony completely ignores him.

“The guy back there with his dirty shoes on my couch is Clint, he shoots arrows and jumps off buildings because he’s an idiot.”

Clint grins and waves.

“The one with the wings is Sam,” Tony continues, raising a warning finger when Ana smirks and opens her mouth. To Sam he adds, trying to suppress a smile, “She’s obsessed with flying, don’t ask me why. We’ve lived through several spectacular temper tantrums already because missy here doesn’t believe me when I tell her that she’s not even close to old enough for a joyride with Iron Man. To which she responded by starting to call Rhodey at all times of the day and pestering him about it. And yes, Rhodey knows and-“

“Stark,” Natasha interrupts sharply and Tony levels a mostly useless but still kind of satisfying glare at her because seriously, so rude. “Explain.”

Ana beats him to that when Loki returns and she sees the bottle in his hand, pulls a face and whines dramatically, “Papa, no!”

“Yes,” Loki insists, calm but firm, and goes about measuring out the right amount of syrup, holding the little cup out with a pointedly arched brow. “Now. And off to bed afterwards.”

Somehow, Ana manages to pout throughout the whole drinking process, maintaining her betrayed expression right until Loki leans in close and blows a raspberry on her cheek, making her dissolve into shrieking laughter and bat at his face, terrible taste already forgotten.

“So,” Clint begins, having walked closer, drawing the word out and rocking back on his heels, “congrats on your successful spawning, I guess?”

And that makes Loki’s lips quirk up, just the tiniest bit. “Thank you,” he says and Tony can tell he means it, watches with a fond smile of his own as Loki tenderly pushes a strand of curls back behind Ana’s ear.

“Where is your place in this, Tony?” Steve wants to know, ever the pragmatic, and Tony, in an attempt to stall, buries his nose in Ana’s hair which, now that he thinks about it, probably makes him look more than a little compromised and biased.

A suspicion that is confirmed when Johnny whispers, “Playing house, apparently.”

“Who wants food?” Tony exclaims loudly, waving a dismissive hand at Steve when he opens his mouth to protest. “Food and drinks, no serious discussions without food and drinks. Especially drinks.”

“No drinks,” Loki objects because Loki doesn’t drink and isn’t exactly a fan of Tony’s drinking, even though it isn’t nearly as bad anymore as it had been there for a while, really, it’s not.

And Tony is a total pushover, lets out a frustrated grunt but nods. “Fruity drinks. No alcohol. Would you?”

For a guy who, four months ago, had had no idea what most of Earth’s fruits even were, Loki makes awesome smoothies. They’re better than DUM-E’s. Less motor oil, for starters.

“After I put Ana to bed,” Loki offers, carefully extracting the yawning girl - thank you modern medicine for not only helping sore throats but also putting children to sleep - from Tony’s arms, “yes?”

“There’s a couch in the next room? We can take her up with us later?” Tony tries, hoping he doesn’t come across as desperate as he feels right now, but he can’t have Ana all the way up in the penthouse, needs his whole family close to get through this, as irrational as he knows that notion to be.

Speaking of. “Jay? Where’s the puppy?“

_“I’ll send him down right away, sir. He will be with you shortly.”_

“A dog?” Clint demands as soon as Loki is out of earshot, cackling gleefully. “A dog and a child? No more booze? You’re whipped, Stark.”

“Don’t antagonize him, Clint,” Steve chastises over Tony’s flustered “Shut up, Birdbrain!”

This is _so_ not how Tony had expected this thing to go, not at all. Why’s he suddenly, the one time he doesn’t actually want to be, the centre of everyone’s attention? And God, how obvious is he about his- his crush? Does everyone know? Does _Loki_ know? 

He doesn’t realise how fast he’s breathing until there’s something wet bumping against his hand and he glances down to see Fenrir nuzzle at him, radiating confusion and concern, ears flat against his head and eyes flickering from Tony to the Avengers plus entourage, all of them rendered speechless for the second time this evening.

“I’m fine,” Tony manages to croak, threading his fingers into the thick fur on Fen’s neck and giving it a gentle tug. “I’m fine, pup, it’s okay.”

Fen whines, low, then gives a snort Tony thinks could be interpreted as disbelieving.

“Don’t sass me, hairball. Go keep Ana company, I’ll order extra meatballs from the Italian place if you behave,” Tony promises, chuckling faintly at the happy little yip that earns him. “Now shoo, you brat.”

It would have been too much to ask for Fenrir to actually listen to him for once, Tony thinks as he watches him trot over to Bucky and Johnny instead, barking excitedly when Bucky crouches down to scratch him.

Johnny is eyeing them both warily. “That’s no dog.”

“Dog, wolf, same difference,” Tony shrugs, moving over to the bar just as Loki comes back in. “All right, let’s do this!”

Tony has JARVIS order them all some dinner while he helps Loki chop fruits and the odd vegetable, a steady stream of small talk flowing between all of them now that Ana and Fenrir have somewhat diffused the situation, the latter travelling from person to person in hopes of belly rubs.

Natasha refuses to participate in any of it, munching on her pasta and glaring despite Sam’s best efforts to coax her into joining them, but Cap and Bucky with their super soldier metabolisms drink about ten smoothies between them, Loki’s creations growing more and more daring and exotic with each drink.

The atmosphere is almost relaxed now, but Tony knows it can’t last. And sure enough, as soon as everyone’s fed and they’ve migrated to the sitting area, all eyes are on him and Loki again where they’re sharing one of the loveseats.

Another strategic miscalculation, Tony realises as he watches his friends’ expression, ranging from confusedly curious to downright hostile.

There’s nothing to be done about it now, though, so Tony laces his fingers with Loki’s - screw it all, he’s not letting him do this all by himself - and Loki starts talking.

It becomes apparent fairly quickly what he’s trying, and mostly succeeding, to accomplish, but that doesn’t make it any easier for Tony to hear.

Loki is pretty much shocking everyone into believing him, not sparing any details on either his own actions, the ones he can remember, or what had been done to him before the failed invasion to make him compliant, or after Odin’s sentence at the hands of his masters.

He’s not shying away from using the appropriate terminology either, chin held high and daring anyone to call him a liar as he speaks of half a decade of abuse - emotional, physical and sexual - standing up and stripping off his carding to put the still raw and infected welts on his back on display.

Tony has the sneaking suspicion that it’s somehow therapeutic for Loki, in a really weird and uncomfortable way, to say all of this to people who don’t know him, that’s it’s easier because of the lack of an emotional connection.

And it’s working, no one interrupts or accuses him of telling anything but the truth.

Clint starts looking a little faint at the mention of Him - who turns out to be called the Mad Titan, which sounds all sorts of not good - and the whole mind control issue, but he nods along thoughtfully when Loki explains that he still can’t recall much, that only bits and pieces come back to him from time to time.

Bucky snorts a little at that because yeah, he’d know about memory problems. Johnny has a hand on the back of his neck and his face is serious for once, a decent indicator as to how fucked up Loki’s story is.

Steve is white as a sheet, absently petting a distressed Fen, and Sam has his face buried in the crook of his elbow, muttering to himself and shaking his head every now and again.

The only one seemingly unaffected person in the room is Natasha, but then again, Tony hadn’t expected anything else from her.

When Loki’s voice cracks after almost two hours, Tony draws him in to lean against his side and takes over for him.

He brings up a holo copy of the contract as proof and has JARVIS replay some of the footage of the day he signed it as well as his conversation with Thor, rounding everything up with how both Bruce and Rhodey have come to accept and trust Loki’s intentions in the last four months and what he’s planning to do now; the manumission Thor is currently asking Odin for again, Rhodey checking if they have some wriggle room or leeway and what terms and conditions apply when it comes to alien refugees, and himself, using his contacts and connections in an attempt to get Loki and Ana citizenship in one of the Nordic countries where Loki is still a huge part of the native mythology and religion.

Loki glances over at him at that and Tony shrugs, a little sheepishly. “Didn’t work out in time for Christmas.”

“Your present was wonderful,” Loki replies earnestly, huddles even closer and tucks his face away in Tony’s neck, obviously beyond exhausted and done for today.

After several minutes, Clint is the one to speak up. “Well. I can’t really say much about the crap that happened before Earth, but we all know I’ve had the same issues with getting my memories back after the invasion. And if Loki had a stronger connection to the source or whatever, it’s plausible that he’s still struggling with it, I guess.”

“Hooray for brainwashing,” Bucky supplies sarcastically, playing with one of the straps on his jacket and not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I know I wasn’t here for any of this, but you idiots keep tellin’ me what I did wasn’t my fault, so I don’t see how I could blame him for what he did.”

“It wasn’t,” Sam insists, then adds in Tony and Loki’s direction, “it really wasn’t.”

“No one is sent to get executed on my watch,” Steve says and yeah, that’s definite, Tony knows him enough to know that. He stares down at his clenched hands as he continues. “Loki and Ana didn’t deserve what was done to them after Manhattan, it wasn’t right and I won’t let it happen again. This is complicated,” he says, cringing at the inadequacy of the word, “but I say Tony and Loki continue as they’ve been doing for the last couple of months. And the rest of us make sure they get the chance to do it in peace.”

“I’ll talk to my sister and Reed,” Johnny offers, nodding at the grateful smile Tony shoots him. “They’ll want to know about that mad dude floating around out there in space somewhere, probably pissed off at humanity after Stark threw a missile in his face.”

Slowly, everyone’s attention wanders over to Natasha who takes one deep, long breath, then gets to her feet. “Fury and Coulson need to be informed about this,” she says, holding up her hand before Tony can protest. “It’s a security matter, Loki is still considered an enemy of the State. I imagine you want this changed.”

“Thank you, Nat-“ Tony begins, but she interrupts him with a shake of her head.

“Loki committed crimes against this nation long before he fell under any spell or was coerced. But the decision on what the punishment for that and his actions during the invasion should be was Odin’s to make. If this is it, I will accept it. Besides,” she throws over her shoulder as she walks out toward the elevator, sounding softer now, “I don’t believe we need to be adding to what has already been done.”

Her exit is followed by stunned silence all around until Clint jumps up, gesturing at the door. “I better make sure no one gets killed during that particular conversation,” he winces before following her after another quick pat for Fen.

“Why don’t we all turn in for tonight?” Steve suggests, standing as well. Then, lips twitching, he jerks his head at Loki. “He’s been out for a couple of minutes already.”

Sure enough, Loki is snoring softly, his arm still tight around Tony’s waist even in his sleep.

“Yeah, all right,” Tony agrees, rubbing at his burning eyes. Burning because he’s tired, not touched by everyone’s acceptance and understanding, nuh-uh. “Just crash wherever, your floors are as you left them.”

One after the other, they all trail out of the room until only Loki, Fen and Tony are left, Tony taking a moment to gather himself and his thoughts before he gently nudges Loki, unable to hide his smile at Loki’s grumpy grumbling.

“You’re a total morning person, don’t be like this,” he teases as they shuffle into the adjacent room to collect Ana.

“It is evening, entirely different concept,” Loki sniffs and Tony swats at him, poking his tongue out at him and settling the girl more comfortably in his arms for the journey upstairs.

They pile into Tony’s bed, Loki curled up against Tony’s chest with Tony’s arm thrown over his side, Ana wedged between them and Fenrir sprawled across all three of them like the lazy fleabag he is.

And if Tony’s face grows damp once all the new information finally catches up with him, well, no one but the man he loves ever needs to know about it, Tony decides and arches into the touch of Loki’s careful fingers where they’re brushing the tears away from his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter didn't even have a cliffhanger. I'm losing my touch. 
> 
> Okay, but how about this; something HUGE is going to happen in the next chapter, you should all be really excited *runs away, cackling manically*


	33. Waffles Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this chapter have a cliffhanger? Yes. Yes, it does. 
> 
> Do I feel bad about it? Nope!

**Chapter XXXIII - Waffles Interrupted**

* * *

The dreams of heat and sand and darkness and silent, empty space that make Tony toss and turn that night, tangle himself up in sweat-soaked sheets, don’t come as a surprise, not after the previous evening’s confrontation and discussion.

What’s new, however, is the feeling of impending loss, the paralysing fear, the certain knowledge that there’s something he can’t lose and someone who’s coming to take it away from him anyway, the helplessness stemming from the realisation that there’s nothing he can do to prevent it, the two pairs of wide, dulled green eyes staring lifelessly ahead, pale faces smeared with dirt and something darker, something that looks suspiciously like bl- 

Tony wakes with a strangled cry only to find himself immobile, arms pinned down next to his head and a heavy, unappreciated weight settled firmly across his legs.

“Don’t, please,” he gasps desperately, voice broken and raw, bucking his hips in an attempt to dislodge whatever is holding him down, trying and failing to draw a full breath into his aching lungs. “Please, please, please-“

A calm but insistent, “Anthony,” is what manages to penetrate the aura of panic surrounding him, making Tony still and finally blink open his eyes, a confused sob escaping his too dry throat as the barren desert slowly transforms back into the reassuring familiarity of his bedroom.

“You are safe, Anthony,” someone murmurs, one hand leaving Tony’s wrist to come up and cup his cheek, a cool thumb stroking back and forth soothingly over his damp, overheated skin. “You are at home, in your tower in New York, and you are safe.”

Tony whimpers, torn between flinching away from and leaning into to contact, the decision eventually taken from him when another hand moves into his hair, blunt nails scratching softly against his scalp.

“Anthony?” the person on top of him asks hesitantly, and the note of genuine worry in the question is finally enough for Tony to grab onto and pull himself fully back into the present where he’s greeted by Loki’s concerned frown.

The expression melts away into a relieved smile the moment Tony’s able to focus on Loki’s face, to recognise who’s with him. “Welcome back, Anthony,” Loki whispers, leaning in close, and for a moment Tony’s sleep-addled brain expects a kiss but then Loki’s forehead touches his and huh, yeah, that’s nice too, actually.

“Hey,” Tony croaks and lets his eyes flutter shut again, just concentrating on calming his still too rapid breathing for a moment. “Sorry about, uh, all of that.”

“No worries,” Loki says, putting an anchoring hand on Tony’s chest when he rolls away and Tony lets out an involuntary and highly embarrassing whine. “I am not going anywhere,” he reassures quietly as he settles against Tony’s side, nosing against Tony’s temple and humming happily, “merely getting more comfortable.”

“’Kay,” Tony mumbles tiredly, successfully placated, and turns into Loki’s chest, tucking his head under Loki’s chin. “You all right?”

Loki doesn’t answer, tugging the sheets up higher and around the two of them instead, which earns him a disgruntled huff from the foot of the bed.

“You are warm enough, do not be difficult,” Loki chastises mildly and Tony can’t help but snort at that, peeking down at where Fen is lying curled around a thankfully still sleeping and completely oblivious Ana.

Tony pokes Fen’s cheek with his big toe, yelping and hastily pulling it back under the blankets when Fen’s tongue darts out to lick at it.

“Rude,” he decides around a yawn, not protesting when Loki’s arm wraps around his waist to draw him in closer. “Your wolf child is so rude. And he sheds. Have I mentioned that he sheds? ‘Cause he does, there’s hair everywhere.”

Fen yips, clearly offended, but before Tony can continue with his teasing, Loki speaks up again. “Whoever wakes up Ana will be the one responsible to handle her foul mood in the morning.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Tony complains and Fen makes an agreeing noise, both falling quiet when all Loki does in response to that is pointedly clear his throat.

It isn’t long before Fen is snoring again, only grunting a little bit when Tony buries his feet in his fur, Loki a solid, grounding presence stretched out alongside Tony’s own body, one of his hands still absently running back and forth through Tony’s hair, gently working out the tangles.

“Thanks,” Tony sighs into Loki’s neck, “for, you know.”

“We take care of each other,” Loki says simply and this time, Tony’s sure he feels a pair of lips brushing over the top of his head.

***

Unexpectedly enough, Tony enjoys another few hours of uninterrupted shut-eye after his nightmare, roused eventually by JARVIS pulling back the curtains and letting in the mid-morning sun.

_“Captain Rogers is requesting entrance, sir,”_ the AI informs him and Tony waves a hand in a vague gesture which JARVIS, bless him, correctly interprets as the go ahead to tell Steve to come in.

“Tony? You up?” Steve calls from the door, footsteps approaching the bed. “Sam is making waffles and-“

Still foggy with sleep, it takes Tony a long moment to notice Steve cutting himself off and falling silent, but once the sudden and slightly tense quiet registers, Tony lifts his head to blearily glance up at where Steve’s standing, seemingly frozen mid-step.

“Sup, Cap?” he slurs, rubbing an uncoordinated hand across his face.

“Uh,” Steve says dumbly, stares for a little longer and then nods his head at something behind Tony, clearing his throat. “Well, this is awkward.”

“What is?” Tony wants to know, craning his neck to look over his shoulder and oh, right. _That_.

Loki is plastered along Tony’s back, an arm and a leg slung casually over Tony’s body, his hand twitching against the Arc Reactor as wakes slowly.

Yeah, that definitely looks compromising.

Tony winces. “Would you believe me if I told you this isn’t what it looks like?”

Steve arches one severely sceptical eyebrow, but offers, “Try me.”

Tony opens his mouth, then falters, drawing a complete blank.

Well, shit.

“Look, it’s complicated,” he begins, sheepishly scratching at the back of his head. Full honesty it is, what can go wrong? “It’s just, it’s nice, not- not sleeping alone, I guess?”

To his utter surprise, Steve’s expression softens at that, morphing into something almost understanding. “You having nightmares again?” he asks, not unkindly, rolling his eyes when Tony glares up at him. “Don’t be like that, you know we all get them, it comes with the job, genius.”

Tony glares harder. “Don’t be smart with me first thing in the morning, Steven.”

Loki sits up, eyeing Steve warily as Steve gaze flickers over Loki’s face. “You all right?” Steve asks, gesturing at his own cheek, causing Tony to turn enough to properly see Loki and-

“Shit,” he gasps, reaching out and lightly trailing a finger over the dark purple bruise on Loki’s cheekbone.

“It was an accident,” Loki says to Steve, jaw set stubbornly as if just waiting for Steve to start throwing around accusations. “He did not do it on purpose.”

Which is true enough and explains why Loki’d been sitting on him earlier, but still. Asleep or not, Tony isn’t a fan of punching any undeserving people in the face, especially not Loki, not now that they’ve reached this fragile level of mutual trust which, Tony fears, could break under the barest pressure.

Steve, for his part, seems unconcerned at least, lips curved up into a small yet honest smile. “Didn’t think so,” he says easily, turning back toward the door. “Waffles, if anyone’s interested.”

“Allow me to assist with the preparations,” Loki offers immediately, jumping up like the annoying morning person he is, plucking the drowsy Ana up from her little blanket nest - obviously not prepared to leave her out of his sight yet, now that the team is around - and expertly ignoring her flailing limbs and sleepy whining as he follows Steve out into the hall.

By the time Tony makes it out of bed and into the kitchen a couple of minutes later, Fen trotting after him, everyone’s assembled around the room in various states of wakefulness. Or, in Johnny’s case, slumped across Bucky’s lap on the couch and snoring peacefully.

Tony whacks him over the back of the head on his way past just to be a dick.

Loki is perched on the counter with Steve at his side, looking uncertain as a clear cooling gel is applied to the swollen parts of his face. Tony just shakes his head at him, indicating that allowing Steve to fuss will get the whole thing over with much faster.

Drifting over to the coffee machine and pouring himself a cup of steaming goodness, Tony’s attention is caught by Ana’s contented babbling - Old Norse today, it appears - Sam _ah_ ing and _oh_ ing every now and again despite, Tony’s sure, not understanding a single word of it.

“Be careful, honey,” Tony says automatically, chewing his bottom lip as he watches Ana stand on a chair and pour batter into the waffle iron. “Don’t burn yourself.”

Sam shoots him a funny look. “She’s fine, Stark, I got it.”

Tony narrows his eyes at him. “Yeah? Well, make your own child to put in mortal danger, this one’s mine.”

He doesn’t realise his slip-up until Bucky’s amused voice carries over from the sitting area. “Yours, huh?”

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve warns without turning away from his task.

“He started it!” Johnny pipes up and they’re off, bickering and sniping and throwing mostly affectionate insults at each other, Steve and Loki working impressively efficiently together when it comes to herding everyone to the table without any major fights breaking out.

The fond smile Loki has on his face the entire time doesn't escape Tony's notice or fail to make his heart pick up speed.

Breakfast is a relaxed affair, considering that it’s been less than twelve hours since the big ‘Loki is here living with me and also there is a kid, whoops’ reveal, or it would be if it weren’t for the alarm starting to blare halfway through the meal.

Bucky looks forlornly at his stack of butter-soaked waffles, then lets out a drawn-out sigh. “Fuck.”

Tony agrees wholeheartedly.

***

Somehow, and he isn’t sure how exactly, Tony’s the only one walking away from the fight with several dozen super sized frogs with injuries worse than a few cuts and scrapes.

“It’s not fair,” he pouts as he’s peeling himself out of the last of his suit, shooting Loki a nasty look when he sees him suppress a grin out of the corner of his eye. “I’m the one wearing metal protection, why is it always me?”

_“My guess would be your reckless disregard of Captain Rogers’ orders and instructions,”_ JARVIS supplies sweetly, the asshole, then belatedly adds the, _“sir.”_

Tony flips off the closest of the AI’s cameras, gratefully leaning against Loki’s chest when Loki opens his arms for him.

“It would be appreciated if you could stop endangering your life at every given opportunity,” Loki whispers into his hair and then there’s the crackle Tony’s come to associate with Loki’s inherent magic and a moment later, a blissfully cold hand is being pressed to the bump on the side of his head, eliciting an almost obscene moan from Tony.

“That’s the stuff,” he groans, frowning and making a confused sound in the back of his throat when Loki hooks a finger under his chin and tilts back his head and-

And then thinking becomes increasingly difficult because Loki’s mouth is on his, effectively sending Tony’s brain offline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, the first kiss after 70k words of pining and our boys being stupid. Yay *throws glitter* 
> 
> Also, do any of you guys watch Shameless? If not, go and do so now. If yes, why not check out my ongoing (don't worry, it's fully written with regular, weekly updates) story [Love Is For Suckers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3726019)? It has Mickey being a dad and Ian wanting Mickey back and lots of other sad, potentially heartbreaking stuff.


	34. Kiss Me, Till the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter already? Yeah, you're all getting spoilt!

**Chapter XXXIV - Kiss Me, Till the End**

* * *

Tony melts into the kiss, makes a contented little sound in the back of his throat as his eyes flicker closed, hands settling on a slim waist and thumbs dipping lower, caressing the soft expanse of skin they find when cheekily pushing the hem of a shirt out of the way. 

The lips on his are cool and slightly chapped, still for a long moment before they start to move experimentally, almost shyly, pulling back to peck first Tony’s bottom lip and then the upper one before returning to press fully against his mouth.

Rumbling an approving hum, Tony raises one hand to slide it into long, silky hair, slowly rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down the back of that pale, elegant neck.

It’s chaste and sweet, no heat or hurry behind it, and Tony enjoys every second of it, doesn’t deepen it or try to take control, simply responds and follows.

The tip of a tongue teases gingerly at the corner of his mouth and Tony sighs, ready to grant access when-

“Wait, _shit_ ,” Tony pants, planting both his hands on Loki’s shoulders, forcing him back a step. “Wait, wait.”

He’s been kissing Loki. Loki. The person he might sort of have somewhat romantic feelings for. _Loki!_

Loki, who is, technically, his property, who is still relearning what it means to have agency and free will and choices, whose face is crumpling right now, who is ducking his head and protectively wrapping his arms around himself, carefully avoiding Tony’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Loki says and has to clear his throat because his voice is breaking, “I- I should not have done that, I’m sorry, I-“

“Hey, no,” Tony is quick to reassure, reaching out to cup Loki’s cheeks before he really thinks about it, holding his breath when that makes Loki twitch before he sags, leaning into the touch. “It’s not- it’s okay, it’s fine, it was nice. I liked it. Just-“ he cuts himself, frowning a little, baffled, “why? Why did you do it?”

Loki doesn’t hesitate, his jaw set stubbornly and eyes finally meeting Tony’s again. “Because I wanted to.”

“Yes,” Tony allows, “but _why?”_

The look that question earns him is one Tony’s become increasingly familiar with the further along in his recovery Loki gets. He’s pretty sure it translates to something akin to; _Are you being deliberately obtuse right now?_

“Because it is something I wanted,” Loki repeats, slow and a little haughty in the way he always speaks when he thinks Tony’s being stupid.

Tony is convinced Loki isn’t aware of doing it but he isn’t about to point it out and take the chance that he might stop, because, somehow, it’s ridiculously, inexplicably adorable.

“No,” Loki decides then and moves in close again, winding one arm around Tony’s back and decisively placing his free hand on Tony’s hip. _“Want.”_

“Oh,” Tony gulps but allows Loki to press their chests together. “So, it’s for you, right? You’re not doing it for me? Or _only_ for me? Like-“

“I have never willingly given this to my master,” Loki offers, making Tony cringe because no, even just the mention of that asshole and what he’s done is enough to make him furious.

But he understands what Loki’s trying to say, what he means, so he raises his chin and tilts his head up, smiling into their next kiss and feeling Loki do the same.

As far as first, or second, kisses go, this one comes fairly close to being perfect. In fact, it would be perfect, Tony thinks and groans in annoyance, if it weren’t for Clint standing in the doorway, grinning and waggling his eyebrows and wolf-whistling.

“What?” Tony snaps, not bothering to untangle himself from Loki, glad that Loki’s apparently on board with that plan when he simply rests his chin on top of Tony’s head but doesn’t move away otherwise.

“Phil finally reached Fury,” Clint informs them, “and they want to talk about your boyfriend, Stark.”

“Out!” Tony barks and, much to his utter humiliation, feels a blush creeping up his neck. “Tell them I’m coming.”

“I bet you are,” Clint sing-songs, cackling manically as he skips out of the room to, hopefully, to as he’s told. Which is doubtful.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tony turns back to Loki, stroking his hands up and down Loki’s sides. “Sorry about him, he’s an idiot. And I have to go, sounds important.”

“I understand, Anthony,” Loki smiled, tracing Tony’s pouting lower lip. “Go.”

After one last quick kiss, Tony goes to follow Clint, fully prepared to beg, plead or threaten, whatever it takes to make Fury back off and leave his family alone.

***

After Anthony’s departure, Loki finds himself standing motionlessly in the centre of the workshop, fingertips pressed firmly against his tingling lips.

It is a mystery to him what had overcome him to make him kiss Anthony, to initiate such a thing and be honest about his desires.

Loki tends to be honest, if only with himself, and he is a simple person when it comes to the men in his life; he wants them, completely and in every way imaginable.

Now, it seems, his heart is set on Anthony.

And while this most important piece of him is set in its decision, other not irrelevant parts are less willing to move forward, are incapable of doing so at present.

Loki would love nothing more than to give himself over to Anthony, mind, body and soul, but he can admit to himself that he is scared.

Terrified, even.

Not of the commitment or the intimacy, no. Loki’s problem is the physical.

He is sure, knowing Anthony for quite some time now, that Anthony would demand reciprocation, would not tolerate Loki offering himself without receiving any pleasure out of the act.

No man, Æsir or Elf or Human or otherwise, has ever been willing to stay with Loki without getting offered something in return.

And Loki has absolutely nothing to offer, not even himself anymore for even that has been tainted by the man who used to be his master.

It is Ana’s questioning, “Papa?” which startles Loki out of his miserable thoughts some time later, her arms wrapping tightly around his legs.

The gesture is enough to ease some of the hurt Loki knows will come from whatever it is he has started with Anthony today.

“Yes, my sweet?” he asks, bending low to pick up his girl and settle her on his hips.

“Steve said to come up for lunch,” Ana declares excitedly, “and there’s donuts for dessert!”

Loki chuckles at that, carrying her to the elevator and asking JARVIS to bring them up to Anthony’s floor. “Do you know what donuts are?”

Ana shrugs dismissively. “No, but they look fun.”

***

Loki is assisting Steven and Samuel with cleaning up, drying dishes while his daughter coos over James’ metallic arm, reverently running her fingers across its shiny surface and tracing the seams in between the plating.

Which, Loki suspects, is all Anthony’s influence.

He smiles to himself at the realisation of exactly how much of an impact, and a mostly positive one at that, Anthony has had on Ana, then takes a quick step forward when the one that looks like Steven lights his own hand on fire.

“Careful,” he cautions, earning himself a highly unimpressed eye-roll from his child.

“Hey, he’s not the only one with cool gadgets,” Jonathan whines, flapping his free hands at his partner’s face. “Let me show off, too.”

Loki watches warily as Ana reaches out, halting just short of touching the fire as she considers for a moment before quickly darting one finger into it, freezing and turning it solid in mere seconds.

Grinning, very obviously pleased with herself, she waves her hand and makes the ice crack and falls away in tiny fragments, scooping some up and sucking them into her mouth.

All of that is met with suspicious silence, the Captain the one to break it eventually with, “Tony told use the two of you couldn’t use your magic.”

“And we cannot,” Loki assures, walking over to the table and holding out his own hand, palm up, until Ana reluctantly places hers in his. “The only magic we can use while wearing these shackles is the magic we were born with, although even that is prevented from leaving our bodies. My br- Thor however, was careless the last time he visited. Release it, Ana.”

“Not fair,” Ana groans, the dangerously wobbling lower lip not deterring Loki in the slightest.

With a huff, she transfers what is left of Thor’s magic over to Loki who cradles the small green flame close for a moment, relishing its power, then flicks it toward the remaining plates which dry instantly.

“Magic, at least in small amounts, can be passed along from one person to the next,” he explains to the gathered group tracking the proceedings with apparent interest. “Magic gifted after the shackles have been put on can be used freely.”

“That is so awesome,” Clinton whispers, prodding Natasha, her expression closed-off but not hostile at least. “So, okay, that makes sense. As far as any of this makes sense. What about the other magic, the one you’re born with, though?”

“I will prepare tea,” Loki decides, readying himself for a long afternoon of questions.

Strangely enough, it is not as daunting a prospect as it would have been mere weeks ago.

***

Anthony hasn’t returned by the time Loki puts Ana to bed and after fretting and worrying for another hour, Loki chooses a book and retires to his bedroom, the old one, to read and wait.

He doesn’t dare sleep in Anthony’s bed for fear of what sort of message such an action would send the other man.

Loki doesn’t think he will be able to fall asleep at first without Anthony there, having grown used to another body next to his, but it must have happened eventually because Loki wakes once more when the mattress dips and Anthony moves to press against his back, hand on Loki’s chest.

It is a position they have slept in many times in the past, though Loki cannot help but tense at the contact now.

Anthony must sense it, asking quietly, “Loki? You awake, Bambi?”

“Yes,” Loki whispers, staying as still as possible.

“Okay, well, sorry about leaving you with the others for so long, Fury wasn’t happy with me. It’s all good for now, he won’t try anything, but he’ll probably want to talk to you sometime.”

Loki makes a vague sound, intent to be acknowledging. It comes out strangled.

“Hey, Loki,” Anthony tries to soothe, urging Loki to face him. “You okay? What’s up, did something happen?”

“I am not-“ Loki blurts, takes a deep breath and continues with, “What are your expectations? Concerning us? What has happened between us this morning?”

Anthony frowns, looking lost for a long moment before he pales, drawing Loki in close against himself. “Shit, Loki, have you been thinking about that all day? I’m sorry, this is my fault, I’m not- look. I don’t expect anything, all right? I mean, I obviously know what I’d like to happen, but this is not just about me, it’s about both of us. So, I say we go with whatever we’re comfortable with, whatever that turns out to be, take it one day at a time. That sound good to you?”

Loki nods, relief and a little bit of shame of having questioned Anthony’s intentions flowing through him, making him grow pliant and soft against Anthony’s body.

“Thank you,” he whispers into Anthony’s neck, arm coming up to curl over Anthony’s waist. “For this.”

“Everything for you, Bambi,” Anthony hums, planting a lingering kiss on Loki’s head, and Loki knows, without a doubt, that Anthony is speaking the truth.

The feeling is humbling and powerful all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been commissioned to write another FrostIron piece which I've started posting yesterday. You can find it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3887938).
> 
> I'd love some feedback on it. Or, you know, _this_ story. I'm not picky.


	35. From Enjoying Threesomes to Being a Parental Unit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am back! 
> 
> I apologise (so, so much) for the long break. If you're following me on tumblr, you might have seen that the last half year has been pretty eventful. And not in the fun way. Meaning that writing has been difficult sometimes, for a variety of reasons, and getting back into it hasn't been easy. Especially the frostiron stories have been giving me some trouble, for whatever reason. But there will be much, much more regular updates now, I swear on pizza and beer.
> 
> And to make up for the wait, please enjoy Tony having a pissing contest with Fury, Tony and Loki being adorable, Tony in a cuddle pile, and the use of the D-word. No, not that one. Get your minds out of the gutter, honestly.

****

**Chapter XXXV - From Enjoying Threesomes to Being a Parental Unit**

* * *

For days after his first kiss with Loki, Tony waits for the other shoe to drop. For something to shatter the fragile hope Tony is allowing himself to feel over what it might mean, and where it could possibly lead them.

But nothing happens.

And nothing changes, not really.

Sure, there’s a new level of intimacy to their daily life, lingering kisses and tentatively wandering hands, but even with the addition of these definitely no longer platonic interactions, everything stays more or less the same. They’ve built such a strong foundation over the almost four months Loki has been with Tony, that taking this next step doesn’t so much feel like a next step, but more like a smooth, completely natural progression of things.

Which is why Tony is less than thrilled when, instead of being allowed the honeymoon period they totally deserve, Coulson and Fury show up at the tower to inform them that SHIELD has decided they need to debrief Loki on the events of the Battle of Manhattan, and what has transpired since.

That, and the fact that Tony is not about to just put Loki at the mercy of a bunch of agents who don’t give a shit about the man himself, and are only interested in the Intel he may be able to provide, especially not now that Loki is finally coming out of his shell and starting to work through and deal with the repercussions of his torture and abuse.

“Over my dead body,” Tony snarls, teeth bared, once Fury is done announcing their intentions, Loki’s hand on Tony’s shoulder, the thumb slipped under his tank to stroke soothing circles into his skin the only thing stopping Tony from punching the presumptuous fucker in the nose.

Fury is as stoic as he ever is in the face of Tony’s anger, quirking an eyebrow back at Tony and drawling an unimpressed, “Being a little overdramatic again, are we?”

“Try me,” Tony challenges, an admittedly somewhat manic grin tugging up one corner of his mouth. “Do it and see where you get your equipment and funding from now on. You think I won’t cut you off? Well, go ahead and find out, Patches.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr Stark,” Coulson says calmly, but sends a sharp look in Fury’s general direction. Having them as Co-Directors is the best damn thing that’s ever happened to SHIELD, in Tony’s expert, thank you very much, opinion. “All we want is to talk, find out if there’s still a threat out there somewhere, and what kind of measures we need to take if there is.”

Before Tony can snap at Coulson as well, Loki himself speaks up. “Director, while my memories of the events leading up to arriving on Midgard and the battle itself are full of holes and vague at best, I am willing to provide you with what I am able to recall.” Tony makes a sound of protest, but when Loki glances at him there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and Tony, biting back an anticipatory smile, falls quiet again. “Provided you accept my conditions, of course.”

Coulson’s eyes widen ever so slightly, the only indication that he’s taken aback. “I believe that is fair. Your conditions being?”

Loki’s expression reminds Tony of the cocky God he’d first met five years ago, full of only half-faked confidence and just a pinch of regal arrogance.

It’s a huge fucking turn-on, and Tony leans a little more into Loki’s touch, happy to see Loki slowly but steadily finding and recovering parts of himself again.

“All our meetings will take place here at Stark Tower and be monitored by JARVIS,” Loki begins, ignoring the scowl Fury sends his way. “And I will have two members of Anthony’s team at my side during all our conversations, one of them being Captain Rogers, as team leader, should he agree to do this for me.”

“Which he will,” Tony cuts in, certain that Steve, disillusioned after the whole HYDRA mess a couple of years back and no more trusting of SHIELD than any of them ever since, will want to sit in on this and make sure that none of the information gets lost somewhere between Loki giving it and SHIELD storing it away out of reach of the Avengers. “And I will be right there with you, as well, Nicky, don’t you worry your shiny, bald head over that.”

Fury grumbles something but nods, one curt jerk of his head.

Coulson holds out his hand for Loki to shake.

***

Loki tells Tony to leave halfway through the very first session, claiming that Tony’s constant scowling and angry interruptions aren’t conductive to finishing the debrief without it escalating into a full blown argument. Again.

“You are being overly protective, Anthony,” Loki murmurs, quiet enough that the other people still sitting around the conference table, and utterly failing at pretending they aren’t trying to eavesdrop, won’t hear them where they’re standing by the door. “And while I sincerely appreciate the intention behind it, I am afraid it is doing more harm than good at the moment.”

“They’re making you uncomfortable,” Tony grumbles miserably, but goes willingly enough when Loki ushers him out into the hall, allowing Loki to draw him in close, melting into Loki’s touch and tucking his face into Loki’s neck, breathing him in in an attempt to calm himself down. “You shouldn’t have to do this.”

Loki, though, is smiling, Tony can feel it against the side of his head. “This was my choice,” he gently reminds Tony, nosing at Tony’s temple and then pressing a lingering kiss to Tony’s hair. “This planet, it is home to me and my daughter now, and I want it as safe as possible for the both of us. For all of us, Anthony,” he says, one hand squeezing the back of Tony’s neck. Voice lighter, with a teasing edge to it, he continues, “Besides, I am supposed to make my own choices, am I not? Or does that only ever apply when my choices are ones you like and approve of?”

“You,” Tony laughs, pulling back enough to grin up at Loki, “are such a little shit. _That_ is something I like, by the way.”

“Good.” Loki smirks right back, kissing the tip of Tony’s nose. “Because I have been told, repeatedly so, that it makes up a rather big part of my personality.”

Standing on tiptoes, hands on either side of Loki’s face, Tony tugs him down to rest their foreheads together. “Still. You sure you’re going to be all right in there?”

“A little more confidence in your Captain, Anthony,” Loki tisks playfully, moving in for another kiss, eyes sliding shut for a moment as he hums against Tony’s lips. “This, it is something I want to do. Something I need to do. Please, let me.”

Tony huffs out a displeased little breath but nods, giving Loki’s lips one last quick peck before stepping away. “I’m sending Nat down to take my place, though. I think Fury’s actually scared of her.”

***

“C’mon, turn that off. Bruce made cookies,” Bucky coaxes and throws himself over the back of the couch, sprawling across Tony’s legs and deftly plucking the tablet out of a loudly protesting Tony’s hands. “Everything’s bein’ recorded, your boy’s fine, has been for the last four days. Stop spying on them.”

Tony scowls, whining when Bucky holds the StarkPad out of his reach. “You are such an asshole,” he accuses, but doesn’t stop Bucky from curling an arm around his waist, making himself more comfortable. “Thought I was supposed to get up?”

“Nope, changed my mind,” Bucky hums, closing his eyes. “I like it here. Pet me.”

“Such an asshole,” Tony repeats, laughing, but starts running his fingers through Bucky’s hair anyway, snorting at the way Bucky starts letting out tiny little groans. If he could, he’d be purring, Tony’s convinced.

He’s known Bucky for a while now, and can recognise his attempts at being comforting. Bucky’s an incredibly tactile person, has always been, according to Steve, but even more so since coming back from his ordeal at the hands of HYDRA. Not that Tony’s complaining. It’s nice, actually, and he’ll never say no to some casual cuddling. It’s his favourite form of team building.

The couch dips again, Johnny sliding into the seat on Tony’s other side. “That’s mine,” he says mock-seriously, linking the fingers of one hand through Bucky’s metal ones, but rests his cheek against Tony’s chest, snuggling up close.

Resigned to his new fate as a human pillow, Tony kicks his feet up on the coffee table. Loki isn’t here to scold him for it, and JARVIS isn’t going to tell. Probably. “Just so you know,” he sniffs haughtily, “I was working on the suit, not-“

“Sure you were,” Johnny interrupts, yawning.

Bucky nods lazily, eyes wide, all faked innocence. “We believe you.”

Tony flicks Bucky’s ear and digs his thumb into Johnny’s neck, making him squeak. “I hate you both. I’m going to revoke your access codes to the tower, leave you homeless and broke.”

“You don’t actually pay our salaries,” Bucky points out, frustratingly reasonable. “And we have an apartment of our own. We’re just here for the free food.”

“Hate you,” Tony grumbles. “Both of you.”

“You adore us,” Johnny singsongs, blowing a wet raspberry against Tony’s cheek. “You think we’re irresistible, don’t lie, baby. I still have the video to prove it.”

Tony groans. “That was one time!”

“With each of us,” Bucky teases, poking Tony’s stomach. “And then one more time with the two of us together. So, three times.”

“Fun times,” Johnny adds dreamily, then starts cackling when Tony rolls his eyes at him.

“What’s fun?” Ana asks curiously, peering over the arm of the couch, and the only good thing about this whole situation, Tony thinks, willing his racing heart to calm down again, is that Johnny didn’t hear her coming either, going by his startled yelp.

Bucky, meanwhile, is laughing at both of them, holding his arm out for Ana to inspect. Which she does, after a moment of hesitation, admiringly running her tiny fingers over the grooves and plates since Tony, even though he has no idea what he’s doing with her, is obviously doing something right.

She’s still wary and careful around most people, but she’s slowly opening up, especially to Bucky and Clint, of all people. Clint insists it’s because they, and Loki, all belong to the Previously Brainwashed club which, according to him, brings people together.

“Daddy, up,” Ana demands, jerking Tony out of his thoughts, making grabby hands at him.

Obeying automatically, tightly wrapped around her little finger as he is, Tony scoops her up, Bucky helpfully lifting his head so she can settle before plopping it back down in her lap, making her giggle. At Tony, he directs a pointed look.

“What?” Tony frowns back at him, then glances over at Johnny, who’s staring at Ana, mouth twitching with badly suppressed amusement. “No, seriously. What?”

“Ana,” Bucky says to get her attention, then points at Tony. “Who’s that?”

“Daddy,” Ana says, squinting her eyes at Bucky as if he’s stup-

Oh.

_Oh!_

“Congratulations,” Johnny says through his snickers. “It’s a girl.”

Tony swallows hard, burying his face in Ana's curls and kissing the top of her head. He’s not going to cry in front of these two idiots, he’s absolutely not.

Thankfully, Thor chooses that exact moment to announce himself with a deafening peal of thunder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Tony slept with Johnny. And Bucky. And then both of them together. Look, his matchmaking methods might be unconventional, but they work, okay?! 
> 
> Okay, so. There are around 5 to 10 chapters left of this, depending on how much I spread it out. So, lots of action and drama to come. Yay!
> 
> Next up: the return of Thor and guests, the revelation of who told Odin of Loki's mistreatment at the hands of his old master, the results of Thor's talk with Odin.

**Author's Note:**

> Please go and check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works) or come over and join me on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/).


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